


The Wager

by thewalrus_said



Series: Wagerverse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Don't copy to another site, Foot Fetish, Getting Together, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Reconciliation, Watching Moodily As The One You Love Flirts With Someone Else, past abusive relationship, sex instruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: The two most notorious rakes in theton—Viktor Nikiforov, the Duke of Petersburg, and Christophe Giacometti, the Earl of Bern—have scandalized society yet again with their drunken wager over which of them is the better lover. Both men regret their foolishness once sober, albeit for very different reasons. But both of them are shocked when widower Katsuki Yuuri, the most renowned, coldest beauty they know, secretly contacts them and offers to be their judge. Yuuri has motives of his own, and as they all grapple with the consequences of their actions, love blossoms. But will it be enough?(Completed, with updates Fridays and Mondays.)
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Christophe Giacometti's Boyfriend, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Wagerverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942678
Comments: 498
Kudos: 381





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the novel _An Indecent Proposition_ by Emma Wildes (please don't sue me), which is a delightful book that everyone should read, if they like spicy historical romances.
> 
> Could not have been written without the support of [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear), and made better by the efforts of Lady_Mari.
> 
> Enjoy!

“And then, Lord Lee said that he wouldn’t be there at all if he’d had the choice, and he’d much rather feed the lot of us to his dogs and be done with it!” Phichit finished, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“That sounds like Lord Lee,” Yuuri said distractedly, eyes fixed on the far corner of the stands, where a clump of people stood talking and laughing.

“And then I told  _ him, _ I’d like to see the dog who could keep me down, and he proposed cutting off my arm and feeding it to one of them as a test.”

“Mhm— Wait, I’m sorry, repeat that last?” Yuuri dragged his eyes away from the group to fix on his friend’s face.

“So you  _ are _ paying attention,” Phichit said, a note of reproof in his voice. “I couldn’t be sure, you see.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, abashed, and sat up, adjusting his jacket. “I’m being an awful friend today.”

“You’d be a better one if you’d tell me what’s on your mind.” Phichit fixed him with his most stern expression. “You’ve been distracted all week. I think you really  _ did _ miss Miss Crispino’s story about her dress and her new kitten two days ago, and you barely ate at all at Lord Ji’s banquet before that. Tell your dearest friend what troubles you.”

“Nothing troubles me,” Yuuri said, grateful that in this, he could be honest.  _ Troubled _ was not the word for what he was feeling. “I do have something on my mind, but it is nothing I need to trouble you with, I assure you. It will pass in due course, and you shall have all my attention again.”

Phichit pursed his lips. “I am displeased with that answer, but I will not press you. You can be worse than a clam when you get startled, you know.”

Yuuri frowned, opening his mouth to ask after the meaning behind that metaphor, when a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. He turned back to the group he had been looking at to see it had swelled by two.

“Oh, they’re here,” Phichit said, sounding scandalized and moving closer to Yuuri. “What is Lord Giacometti wearing, can you tell? I cannot see from here.”

Yuuri did not answer, but the Earl obligingly moved to the other side of his party into Phichit’s line of sight, and Phichit gasped. “The tailoring on that jacket is simply obscene,” he declared in tones of no small delight. “I swear, one day he’s going to find himself arrested for public indecency.”

They both would, Yuuri privately thought, the Earl and his friend. His friend was what drew Yuuri’s eye, his fall of silver hair glittering in the sun as he kissed the hand of the fiery redhead beside him. “Lady Babicheva,” Phichit supplied. “I thought her too sensible to get caught up with the Duke.” Lady Babicheva tittered at whatever the Duke had said. The man’s face was turned away, but Yuuri could imagine well the smile that would have crept across his face at his victory.

Viktor Nikiforov, the Duke of Petersburg, and Christophe Giacometti, the Earl of Bern. The Devilish Duke and the Angel, as they were known among the more gossipy members of society; the two most notorious rakes in all of the  _ ton. _ Yuuri’s heart was roaring in his ears, but he forced himself to tear his gaze away and focus on Phichit again.

“You’ve heard of that awful bet,” Phichit was saying, still squinting across the crowd at the Angel’s outfit.

“Yes.” Yuuri had often been told his face was a closed book, and he had never more fervently wished that to be true.

“They’ve put it down in the book and everything,” Phichit went on. “It’s as official as it can be.”

The bet. Yuuri knew it well. The two men had gotten outrageously drunk at their club and each had declared himself the superior lover. The story had been all over town by the next morning, all the more so once it was discovered they’d gone so far as to officially set it down at their club. “The ramblings of two drunks,” Yuuri said, when it became clear Phichit was waiting for input. “It will come to nothing.”

“No doubt, for someone would have to  _ judge _ the bet to decide the winner, and what self-respecting person would volunteer for such a task?” Phichit shook his head. “All the same, it’s scandalous.”

Before Yuuri was called upon to speak again, the announcement came that the race was about to begin. “They’ll behave themselves this afternoon, at any rate,” Phichit murmured, lifting his glasses to his face, and Yuuri agreed. The Duke was famously horse-mad, his friend less so but fiercely competitive. The one thing they both seemed to take seriously were the races. “Who knows what tonight will bring, though?”

Privately, Yuuri hoped the gentlemen’s night would not stretch too long or grow too rowdy. They only had until tomorrow afternoon to receive his note.

\------

“Nightcap?” Viktor asked, cocking an eyebrow lazily at his friend.

“Oh, go on,” Chris said, laughing, and Viktor got up to pour. Viktor was a brandy man, and Chris preferred a nice strong whiskey; Viktor kept a bottle of each in his library for nights such as these. “We must celebrate your win,” Chris went on, propping his feet up on a footstool. “Your Makkachin really is a wonder.”

“She’s the best in the business,” Viktor said, pride swelling in his heart. He’d have to go out to visit her tomorrow; it had been too long, and she pined without him. He would never admit it, but part of him pined as well; she was unlike any horse he had ever met before.

“My Genevieve will give her a run for her money next month,” Chris said, standing to take his glass from Viktor. “Just you wait; my trainer has been working her hard, and says she’s like a completely different beast.”

Viktor shook his head. “She won’t stand against my girl.”

“Make it interesting?” There was a gleam in Chris’ eye that Viktor had never been able to resist.

“Twenty pounds?”

“Done.” Chris clinked his glass against Viktor’s and tossed the whiskey back, scrunching his face against the burn. “I’ll win this one, you’ll see.”

“Mhm.” The moment turned awkward, and Viktor caught Chris’ eye. “Damn it, man, what were we  _ thinking?” _

“We were thoroughly blasted, Viktor,” Chris said with a sigh, setting his glass down on a table and reaching for his jacket. “I doubt we were thinking at all.”

“Well, we’ll have to do  _ something _ about it,” Viktor said. “We set it down, after all.”

“Oh, let’s not doomsday tonight,” Chris implored, shrugging his jacket on. “I’m in a good mood, despite losing to you; let’s not spoil it.”

“I suppose. I’ll walk you out.” Viktor clapped a hand onto Chris’ shoulder and walked with him out to Viktor’s front hall, both of them unsteady after a long day at the races and a longer evening at their club. Viktor’s butler appeared as they reached the door, Chris’ coat in hand. “Any post before I go to bed?” Viktor asked as he helped Chris into it. The butler reached into his jacket and drew out a single envelope, handing it to Viktor. “Thank you,” Viktor said; the man bowed and vanished.

“I’ll leave you to your love notes,” Chris said, putting his hand on the doorknob.

Viktor turned the envelope over and said, “No, wait. It’s addressed to the pair of us.” Chris frowned and moved closer, and Viktor showed him the envelope, and the static, unfamiliar script of its address, carefully blocky as if to obscure all attempts to identify it, which read simply,  _ The Devilish Duke and the Angel. _

“Oho,” Chris said, his voice dropping quiet. “Open it, then.”

_ Gentlemen, _

_ I would like to put myself forward as a judge for your recent wager; no doubt I do not have to be specific about the one I am referring to. If you are interested, please meet me at The Castle pub in the south quarter of the city, at 7pm tomorrow. Bring no one but your driver, and leave him outside. I’m sure you can understand the need for secrecy. _

There was no signature, and the handwriting was as stilted as the address. Viktor looked up at Chris, who had the same expression on his face that Viktor felt on his own. “We’re going, then?” he asked, barely needing to hear the answer.

“Of course we’re going.” Chris’ grin was like a bonfire across his face, hot and sparking. “Oh, Viktor, this is going to be  _ fun.” _


	2. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor rubbed his hands together, surveying the small tavern as Chris clambered out of the carriage behind him. “Our mysterious judge-to-be has good taste,” he remarked. The place was small and run-down, but in a way that suggested age and use rather than neglect. It was out of the way, tucked into the corner of two back streets, and he could see warm candlelight in many of the upper windows. “Shall we?”
> 
> “Let’s.” Chris led the way in, holding the door for Viktor. The inside confirmed Viktor’s initial conclusions; there were a few groups of two or three scattered throughout the barroom, but no one so much as looked over at them as they entered. “Discreet,” Chris murmured. “Where do you suppose they are?”
> 
> Viktor made his way over to the bar. “A whiskey and a brandy,” he said to the bartender, who nodded sharply and got to work. “We’re meant to be meeting someone here,” Viktor said as he poured the amber liquid into two sparkingly-clean glasses, “but to be perfectly honest, we’re not sure whom exactly we’re meeting with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter contains a discussion of Yuuri's marriage, which, although it was not my intent when I started writing, can easily be read as emotionally abusive, and is definitely acephobic. I'll put details in the end notes. Please read with caution.

Viktor rubbed his hands together, surveying the small tavern as Chris clambered out of the carriage behind him. “Our mysterious judge-to-be has good taste,” he remarked. The place was small and run-down, but in a way that suggested age and use rather than neglect. It was out of the way, tucked into the corner of two back streets, and he could see warm candlelight in many of the upper windows. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.” Chris led the way in, holding the door for Viktor. The inside confirmed Viktor’s initial conclusions; there were a few groups of two or three scattered throughout the barroom, but no one so much as looked over at them as they entered. “Discreet,” Chris murmured. “Where do you suppose they are?”

Viktor made his way over to the bar. “A whiskey and a brandy,” he said to the bartender, who nodded sharply and got to work. “We’re meant to be meeting someone here,” Viktor said as he poured the amber liquid into two sparkingly-clean glasses, “but to be perfectly honest, we’re not sure whom exactly we’re meeting with.”

The barkeep smirked. “Oh, you’re them.” Viktor paid for the drinks and passed one to Chris. “Follow me,” the man said, stepping out from behind the bar and heading for a small dark hallway. Viktor raised his eyebrows at Chris and followed, the other man hot on his heels.

They were led to a door in the back. The barkeep knocked twice on the door and then opened it. “Here y’are.” Viktor nodded at him and went in.

Viktor couldn’t make out much of the person seated in one of the three chairs in the room. They were wrapped in an overlarge midnight-blue cloak which obscured their body, and a veil came down from their hat to cover their face, which was further hidden in shadow. “We got your note,” Viktor said as Chris shut the door behind them, walking over to one of the empty chairs and dropping into it. “I must say, you know how to write a missive to inspire curiosity.”

“Thank you,” the figure said. A man, to judge by the deepness of the tones? A man with a musical voice, resonant and clear.

Chris fell into the remaining chair. “I hope you understand we can’t make our decision on whether to accept your proposal until we know who you are.”

“Of course.” The mysterious man folded his hands in his lap. “I will reveal myself. I just want your word first, as gentlemen, that whatever the results of this meeting or of the wager, you will not reveal my identity to another living soul.”

Viktor looked at Chris for a moment, then turned his head back to the man in the chair. “You have my word, sir.”

“And mine,” Chris said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Alright,” the man said. He took a breath, seemingly to steady himself, and then slowly his hands came up to pull the veil up from his face, settling it back over his hat. Viktor felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead as he recognized the man’s face.

“Mr. Katsuki,” Chris said, his matching surprise evident in his voice. “I confess, if I had made a list of potential suspects, you would have been at the bottom of it.”

Mr. Katsuki blushed, a beautiful rose hue coming to his cheeks. “I know that I have a certain... reputation.”

He certainly did, Viktor reflected; everyone knew Katsuki Yuuri as the coldest man in the  _ ton. _ There were plenty of suitors hoping to sweep him off his feet, for his beauty and his family’s money, but he barely gave anyone the time of day since his brief marriage ended in tragedy. “Reputations are dangerous things,” Viktor said, leaning forward and setting his glass down on the table, still untouched. “We have our reputations as well, as I’m sure you know. What could inspire a man such as yourself to wish to entangle yourself with men like us?”

Mr. Katsuki looked at him for the first time, and Viktor found himself transfixed by his eyes—dark, piercing, and seemingly bottomless. “My reasons are my own,” he said, his flush deepening but his voice never wavering. “I trust you to stick to your word as gentlemen and keep my identity safe, but as for my private thoughts, well, you shall have to earn them.”

Did the corner of his mouth twitch up a bit at that last? It was certainly a well-placed blow, as Viktor felt the familiar curl of competition take hold of his stomach and send a thrill up his spine. He exchanged another look with Chris, who was openly grinning with delight. “Fair enough, Mr. Katsuki,” Chris said. “We’ll not pry. And as for me, I’m happy to have you as our judge.”

“As am I,” Viktor said, regarding Mr. Katsuki as he spoke. The man dropped his eyes to his hands for a moment and nodded before looking up again to meet Viktor’s gaze. “Have you any thoughts as to logistics?” Viktor went on. “If your identity is not to be revealed, and I agree it should not be, how will you make the results known?”

“The newspaper,” Mr. Katsuki said. “I thought to make an anonymous report in the personals section, through an agent so I cannot be traced.”

“Clever,” Chris murmured. “I like it.”

It  _ was _ clever, and Viktor found himself intrigued. Clearly this Mr. Katsuki had hidden depths, and Viktor, to his surprise, discovered that he was quite eager to plumb them. “Give us a week each,” he heard himself say, and Mr. Katsuki’s eyes snapped to his, widening in surprise. “If we are to impress you, we must have time to put on a proper showing. A week each, if you can spare it.”

Tearing his eyes away from Mr. Katsuki’s, he looked at Chris, who was gaping at him in evident shock. At Viktor’s subtle nod, though, he mastered himself and said, “I agree. A week would be best, for lovemaking can only be improved by knowledge of one’s partner.”

Mr. Katsuki flushed again at the reminder of why they were all here, bowing his head, and Viktor could see the pretty hue extending down the back of his neck. “I can spare the time, if you can provide a location,” he said. “Provided you do not believe anyone will notice our absences and draw conclusions.”

“Even if they do notice our absences, your reputation ensures that no one could possibly suspect you of judging our rash wager,” Chris pointed out. “More likely it will be viewed as a coincidence, hardly even to be noticed.”

“As for location, I have an advantage over my friend,” Viktor said. “I have a country estate I rarely use. Minimally staffed, just a housekeeper and a cook, and I trust both to act with the utmost discretion. Chris, I believe, will require some time to find a suitable place?” Chris nodded, and Viktor felt himself grin. “So, me first, is the conclusion I draw.”

Mr. Katsuki swallowed. It was strange, Viktor thought idly; he was clearly nervous, his hands tense in his lap, but he met them both gaze for gaze, with pride in his countenance. He must have a spine of absolute steel under all that decorum. “Very well. I can be ready in two days.”

“I’ll send a note with the address,” Viktor said. “Anonymously, of course, through an agent.” Mr. Katsuki nodded sharply. “Then, Mr. Katsuki, I shall see you in two days.”

The man bit his lip, then said abruptly, “I think, if we are to do this, we can dispense with some level of formality, can we not?”

Viktor tilted his head at just the right angle to expose the long column of his neck. “What do you propose?”

“My name,” Mr. Katsuki said. “You might call me Yuuri. If you like.”

Viktor couldn’t see Chris, so fixated was he on the man before him, but he knew Chris must also be smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Only if you call me Viktor,” Viktor said loftily, lifting his chin.

“Viktor,” Mr. Katsuki—Yuuri—said quietly, and Viktor felt it down in his toes.

———

Chris downed his drink—was it his third or his fourth?—and shut his eyes against both the burn of the whiskey and the tedium of the night. Damn and blast, but he  _ hated _ parties like this. He couldn’t even really call it a party—it was more of a gathering, no music, no dancing, and a bland dinner. There was only one other guest worth conversing with, and  _ he _ was off in the corner, talking up a storm with people not worth his time and determinedly avoiding looking over at the corner where Chris had ensconced himself. Chris set his empty glass on a passing servant’s tray and signaled for a fresh one. The things he did for his uncle.

The man himself materialized at Chris’ side, with a knowing smile and a fresh whiskey for him. Chris took it gratefully. “Am I that obviously miserable?” he asked, swallowing half of it in one gulp.

“You could not radiate more misery if someone had died,” Josef said, belying his words with a cheerful tone. “Honestly, Christophe,  _ did _ someone die? You’re not in mourning clothes but everything else about you screams bereavement.”

“I’m not bereaved, just bored,” Chris muttered, casting another look at Mat in the corner. He was gorgeous tonight, in deep blue with a flash of green in his pocket square, and his hair fell temptingly into his eyes. Chris’ fingers ached with the desire to touch, to push into that hair and  _ make _ Mat look at him, listen to him, forgive him. But that wouldn’t help matters at all. He forced himself to look away, only to see his uncle smirking at him again. “What?” he asked, irritable.

“You’re obvious, you know,” Josef said, making Chris’ stomach drop. “Not to everyone,” the man went on, “but to those who know you. By God, man, why haven’t you done something about it yet?”

Chris scowled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Mat won’t speak to me. He won’t even  _ look _ at me, Uncle Josef. And from what I hear, his engagement to Cao Bin is all but settled.” The words felt like ash in his mouth.

“Yes, and I’m sure you had nothing to do with  _ that, _ going around making ridiculous wagers and getting yourself into all sorts of trouble,” Josef said mildly.

That damned  _ wager. _ He’d been out of his mind, drunk and heartbroken, but that was no excuse. He knew Viktor regretted it too, but he had much less reason than Chris to wish they’d never run into each other at their club that night. It was all Mat’s fault. Chris looked over at him again, but no, Mat still wasn’t looking at him. Chris frowned again and drained his glass.

What on earth Chris was supposed to do with even a renowned beauty like Katsuki Yuuri for a whole  _ week _ when he was hopeless for Mat, he had no idea. He was going to  _ murder _ Viktor.

But, of course, he couldn’t  _ tell _ Viktor why he had to back out without revealing what he’d done, and somehow he didn’t think Mat would appreciate that. And, more personally, the fewer people who knew the depths of cowardice Chris had proven himself capable of sinking to, the better.

“Is it that bad, lad?” Josef asked quietly, jolting Chris back to his surroundings. “What on earth did you do?”

Chris looked at him. Josef’s face was creased with kindness and love for his wayward nephew, and Chris never could be anything but honest when his uncle looked at him that way. “I broke his heart, Uncle,” he said, unable to lie but unwilling to totally ruin his beloved uncle’s opinion of him with the full truth. “He handed it to me, and I panicked and dropped it.”

“Ah.” Josef took a pull from his own glass. “Not your finest hour, then?”

“No,” Chris said, shaking his head with a wild laugh. “Not by far.”

It had been one of the finest hours he’d ever experienced, in the moment; trying to settle with a book in the library while Mat read in the chair across from him, but growing ever more distracted by the realization that his uncle’s ward was really quite handsome, and by the way he flicked his hair out of his eyes every few minutes, and the way the light played across his shoulders, which Chris was noticing for the first time were really quite broad.

From the first spark of initial interest, it had been a simple matter of insinuating himself into Mat’s space, turning up the charm. Mat had responded like a flower blooming to the sun, and the first touch of their mouths had been revelatory. He loved Mat, he had discovered, and Mat deserved more than just a dalliance. Mat deserved marriage, and eternal devotion, and Chris wasn’t sure he was up to providing either. So he’d babbled some pathetic excuse and fled, and ran right into Georgi Popovich’s hungry arms, like a damned fool. The heartbreak on Mat’s face when he’d walked in on them would live in Chris’ heart for the rest of his life.

Josef clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll fix it, lad. Mat has idolized you since you were both children, and if you’ve knocked yourself off that pedestal, no doubt it hurts, but it leaves room for him to come to know you as you really are.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Chris muttered.

“You’re not your reputation, Christophe,” Josef said firmly. “One day you will learn that you’re worthy of love, and for the sake of an old man who loves you as his own, I hope it’s Mat that teaches you. Promise me you’ll at least try?”

Chris sighed, theatrical, and rolled his head to one side. “If you’re going to twist my arm about it.” He caught Josef’s eye and gave him a real smile, small but heartfelt. “Obviously I’m going to try, Uncle. I can’t do anything else.”

“Good lad.” Josef clapped him on the shoulder.

Chris looked over at the corner again to see Mat standing and brushing his jacket down as he talked to someone Chris didn’t recognize. Chris kept looking, and after a moment the person moved away and Mat turned his head and caught sight of him. Their gazes held for a single breathless moment, before Mat’s face transformed into an expression of pure venom and he turned away, nose in the air. Chris sighed and went in search of more whiskey.

———

“Sir?” Yuuko’s voice cut through Yuuri’s reflections, and he started and stood up. “There’s a letter for you, sir,” she went on, walking towards him with the envelope on a tray. “From the strangest gentleman. He wouldn’t give his name.”

It was the Duke’s man; it had to be. “Wait a moment while I read,” Yuuri said, ripping the envelope open. He had been right; it was directions to a small estate a few hours out into the countryside where, the Duke assured him, they would not be disturbed. “I’m going away,” Yuuri told Yuuko, handing her the letter. “In two days. Make sure Minami is prepared with the carriage, and fetch my trunk from the storeroom, please. And burn that letter once Minami’s memorized it.”

“Of course, sir,” Yuuko said, curiosity written all over her face, although Yuuri knew she wouldn’t read the letter she held. She turned with a curtsey and left the room.

Yuuri dropped back into his chair with a sigh. So it was really happening. In two days, he would be in the bed of a man who was not and never would be his husband, risking his good name to find out if the man Yuuri  _ had _ married had been right or wrong about him.

Fumio had not been a  _ bad _ man, and for all Yuuri’s deficiencies, their marriage had been a relatively happy one. During the day, at least. It was the nights that had troubled them, from their wedding night when Yuuri had utterly failed to respond to Fumio’s touch, through all the nights that followed.

They had tried again and again, but Yuuri had remained as cold as a dead fish, in Fumio’s words. Their attempts had tapered off after about six months, Fumio spending the odd night in Yuuri’s bed after that but never touching him, never kissing him beyond a perfunctory peck.

When he had died, Yuuri had been relieved for him, that he was spared living longer with a husband who did not desire him.

But of late, niggling questions about Fumio’s conclusions had begun to worry at the corners of Yuuri’s mind. The urge to self-pleasure, all but dead during his courtship and marriage, had come back in fits and spurts in the years since his death, and those interludes always ended with satisfaction, if not the bone-deep bliss Yuuri had heard spoken of in shameful whispers in the corners of the seedier kinds of parties. But, after his experience with Fumio, Yuuri had long since sworn off the institution of marriage, so the odds of finding a safe avenue to explore seemed low.

So when he had heard of the infamous wager, it had not taken him very long at all to resolve himself into his course of action. If anyone could bring out hidden passions in him, it was the Devilish Duke or the Angel. If both of their touches left him as cold as Fumio’s had, then perhaps a passionless life was his lot. There was no doubt many marriages and many people operated under such conditions, quite happily. But Yuuri rather suspected that despite Fumio’s words, he himself was not among their number.

One way or another, he  _ would _ find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri in this fic is grey-asexual, and was not attracted to his husband. His husband blamed Yuuri for this, eventually convincing him he was broken and deficient.


	3. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri let Minami help him out of the carriage, summoning all his strength to keep his knees steady and his eyes from widening with nerves. Viktor Nikiforov, the Devilish Duke himself, was waiting for him, lounging in the doorway to the house like he hadn’t a care in the world. No jacket, no hat—but Yuuri supposed that was to be expected. They would be spending an awful lot of time without clothes on in the coming week. Behind him, Minami led the carriage away, leaving Yuuri alone with the man who would soon be ravishing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to start earning that rating.

Yuuri let Minami help him out of the carriage, summoning all his strength to keep his knees steady and his eyes from widening with nerves. Viktor Nikiforov, the Devilish Duke himself, was waiting for him, lounging in the doorway to the house like he hadn’t a care in the world. No jacket, no hat—but Yuuri supposed that was to be expected. They would be spending an awful lot of time without clothes on in the coming week. Behind him, Minami led the carriage away, leaving Yuuri alone with the man who would soon be ravishing him.

The house was charming, Yuuri noted in a desperate attempt to distract himself. Surprisingly small for a Duke’s country estate, it was nestled into the countryside as though the landscape had grown around it. Someone had planted roses and blue hydrangeas and violets, the colors a soothing splash against the bright green of the grass. Yuuri could smell their fragrance as he took a hesitant step down the path.

Viktor came forward to meet him, tripping lightly down the front stairs and taking Yuuri’s outstretched hand. He bent over it and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s fingers that sent a thrill down to his toes.  _ My husband was wrong, _ Yuuri thought as Viktor straightened and looked down into his face.  _ I  _ can _ feel attraction. _

“Welcome,” Viktor said, his voice a low purr. “I hope your journey was comfortable.”

“Minami is an excellent driver,” Yuuri said. “Barely a bump in the road.”

“Excellent.” Viktor smiled, dangerously beautiful in the sunlight. “I thought we might have lunch; you must be hungry after your trip.”

Yuuri, who had rather expected Viktor to strip him down within a minute of his arrival, blinked. “Lunch sounds lovely, thank you.” Viktor offered him his arm and led him inside.

Lunch was already prepared, it seemed, and was spread out across the table. Cold meat pie and fruit and soft bread, with sweet wine to wash it down. Yuuri felt himself settle, as he always did at a table full of food, and allowed Viktor to help him into a seat. “You’ll have to tell me your favorite meal,” Viktor said, sitting down next to Yuuri, “and we can see if my cook knows it.”

“It’s unlikely,” Yuuri said. Viktor started helping himself to food, and Yuuri followed suit. “My favorite meal is my mother’s katsudon. Fried pork over rice, with an egg,” he added at Viktor’s confused look. “It’s divine.”

“It sounds it,” Viktor said. “As divine as you look, my darling.”

_ So it begins. _ Yuuri flushed, but pride kept his face upright. He raised an eyebrow. “Am I your darling?”

“You are this week, unless you do not like the title,” Viktor said, taking a bite of peach. “But I think the word suits you.”

Yuuri considered it, then shrugged. “I do not mind it. I can be your darling for a week.”

“Splendid.”

They ate and conversed, light topics and light fare. Viktor asked after Yuuri’s opinion on literature, and they spent a good amount of time disagreeing over the ending of the latest gothic romance—Viktor thought it suitable, and Yuuri distasteful and unearned. Peppered throughout were outrageous flirtations from the Duke, to the point where Yuuri rather suspected Viktor was deliberately trying to make him blush. Somehow, each compliment and insinuation relaxed Yuuri, until he was lounging in his chair, expounding on Lambiel’s latest poetic work with wide gestures. Viktor was sat back in his own chair, watching with a smile that bordered on fondness.

“You’ve convinced me,” Viktor said softly, after Yuuri remembered himself and brought his tirade to a close. “I did not care for the poem, but you have converted me. I shall have to obtain a copy and read it again.” That made Yuuri blush harder than any of Viktor’s innuendos, and Viktor’s eyes gleamed. “But first, my darling, I think I shall have to kiss you, if you are agreeable.”

Yuuri’s heart started to pound. “That is what we are here for, is it not?”

That damned smile curled its way up Viktor’s face again, wicked and alluring. “Among other things.” Viktor stood and held out a hand; after a moment, Yuuri took it, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. Viktor traced a finger lightly down Yuuri’s cheek and asked, “May I?” His eyes were piercing, the blue of a glacial sea but warm. Lost in them, Yuuri nodded, and Viktor leaned in.

The first brush of their lips made Yuuri’s dead husband even more of a liar, for Viktor’s kiss sparked things that Fumio’s never had, lightning crackling up and down his spine. Yuuri sucked in a breath and Viktor pushed ever so slightly closer, his warm lips pressing against Yuuri’s until Yuuri had no choice but to part them. And then his  _ tongue... _ Yuuri heard a low moan in his ears, not realizing for a few moments that it had come from his own throat as Viktor’s tongue swept against his. Viktor’s hand tightened on the back of his head, tilting him slightly, and then it was somehow  _ better. _

Viktor didn’t torture him long, ending the kiss with a terrible light sucking pressure on Yuuri’s lower lip that made his head spin before leaning back and regarding him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, stroking Yuuri’s face again. “If you can find it in yourself to trust me, I think we are in for a  _ very _ enjoyable week.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Yuuri breathed. Viktor’s lips were pinked with the work, and Yuuri could not tear his eyes away.

“Let me take you to bed, darling,” Viktor said. “Let me show you what two bodies can do together.” Yuuri nodded, and Viktor took his hand.

———

Viktor couldn’t make sense of it. Yuuri was a renowned beauty and, as Viktor had just discovered, a wonderful conversationalist and lunch partner. Beyond that, he had been married for nearly a year. And yet he had reacted to Viktor’s kiss as though it was his first. Even if his husband had never touched him, surely  _ someone _ had to have stolen a kiss from a man as lovely as Katsuki Yuuri, and done the job properly.

Yet the evidence of Viktor’s well-honed senses told him that no, no one had ever kissed Yuuri like he just had. It was incomprehensible.

Yuuri grew quiet and more still the closer they proceeded to Viktor’s bedchambers, and Viktor realized with a start that his hands were clasped so tightly together to mask their shaking. He was biting his lip, too, eyes darting about as though to avoid looking at the door in front of them. He was, to put it short, bone-deep terrified, and Viktor almost couldn’t believe it. Katsuki Yuuri, a widower who had boldly propositioned not only Viktor but another man as well, was now scared when faced with intimacy?

Viktor would just have to reassure him. It wasn’t his usual tack with a new lover, but clearly Yuuri needed a gentle introduction to the world of lovemaking, and Viktor found himself in the position to do it.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Yuuri visibly swallowed. “And now we bare ourselves?” he whispered, looking around the room as though to hide his nerves.

“In a moment,” Viktor said, reaching for him. “Come here.” He drew Yuuri closer and, at his slight nod, kissed him once more, pouring sensuality through his mouth into Yuuri. Yuuri moaned again, a delightfully innocent sound for all that it was borne of lust, and his arms came up to wrap around Viktor’s neck. Yuuri was clearly inexperienced, but a quick learner nonetheless; he was a more active participant in this kiss, his breath coming quicker and his tongue slipping into Viktor’s mouth with a boldness that surprised him.

Viktor kissed him for several long minutes, until Yuuri was nearly boneless against him and there was a growing tightness in Viktor’s trousers that he could feel mirrored against it, and then he leaned back with a smile. “Shall we proceed?”

Yuuri swallowed again but nodded, his hands moving to his cravat. Viktor knocked them away and removed it himself. “We’re in no rush,” he said quietly, catching Yuuri’s eye until the man nodded. “Baring oneself before a new lover is an act that can only be heightened by taking one’s time,” Viktor went on, his fingers going to Yuuri’s cuffs to undo them. He leaned forward and sucked a swift kiss onto Yuuri’s newly-revealed neck, making the man gasp. He set the cufflinks onto his dresser and then turned his hands to his own waistcoat and shirt, not stopping until he was bare to the waist.

When he looked up again, Yuuri had shed his own jacket and waistcoat and started work on his buttons. “Stunning,” Viktor murmured as Yuuri stripped the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. Yuuri’s fingers were twitching with nerves as he regarded Viktor, clearly fighting the urge to cover himself, and that wouldn’t do at all. “Come to the bed?” Viktor asked, holding out a hand. Yuuri steeled himself and took it, following him over and sitting when prompted. “We’ll do nothing you don’t like,” Viktor promised, lifting Yuuri’s hand and sucking his index finger into his mouth. Yuuri’s own lips dropped open slightly as he watched. “Promise me you’ll speak out if I do something you don’t like, and I shall stop immediately. Promise me,” Viktor added more firmly, when Yuuri seemed inclined to push his finger back between Viktor’s lips.

Yuuri nodded. “I promise.” His voice was already raspy with lust, and the beast that lived in Viktor’s chest purred with delight. Viktor kissed him again and drew him down until he was flat on the bed and Yuuri was a burning-hot weight above him.

Viktor kept his hands on Yuuri’s back for the first few minutes, but as Yuuri grew bolder in his kisses, Viktor grew bolder in his fingers, and crept one hand around to brush a thumb against Yuuri’s nipple. Yuuri started but didn’t otherwise react, and Viktor noted it and stroked along his jaw instead. That got him a low moan, and Viktor moved his mouth from Yuuri’s lips to his neck, sucking and kissing and licking until Yuuri started to thrust his hips, clearly unconscious of what he was doing. “Sit up,” Viktor murmured, doing so himself. Yuuri sat with his hands supporting him on the mattress, pupils blown and breath coming ragged. “May I take your shoes off?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri nodded, and Viktor slid off the bed and set to the laces on one shoe. Once they were both off and his socks were stripped, Viktor caught Yuuri’s eye and knelt on the bed again. “Prop yourself up against the pillows,” Viktor instructed, and once Yuuri had scrambled to obey, Viktor lifted one foot to his mouth and pulled the big toe between his lips.

“Oh,” Yuuri said in a punched-out gasp as Viktor swirled his tongue around the digit and sucked.  _ “Oh, _ why does that feel so good?”

Letting the toe slip free, Viktor said, “Your feet are microcosms of your body, Yuuri. Attentions paid to them can be felt... elsewhere.” He gathered two more toes into his mouth and resumed working, his fingers gently massaging the rest of the foot, and Yuuri fell back with a deeply erotic moan.

Viktor spread his ministrations over both feet until Yuuri was a limp, gently-writhing mass on the bed, and then he set Yuuri’s foot down and stood, hands going to the fly of his trousers. Yuuri bit his lip as Viktor stripped himself bare and then summoned the energy to reciprocate, slipping out of his own and tossing them aside. Viktor stretched himself over Yuuri and kissed him deeply, letting his hips down to just brush his erect cock against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri gasped into his mouth.

“You promised me you’ll stop me if I do something you don’t like,” Viktor reminded Yuuri, and Yuuri nodded. Viktor slipped down Yuuri’s body, his tongue tracing a meaningless path down his neck and torso, until he was nestled between Yuuri’s spread legs. Catching his gaze again, Viktor took hold of Yuuri’s cock, flushed red and proud, and pressed a kiss to the base of it. Yuuri whimpered, his hand fisting in the sheets, and Viktor licked up the length until he could flatten his tongue against the head and suckle gently on the tip. Yuuri broke their eye contact, tipping his head back with a low groan that Viktor felt in his own painfully-hard cock, and Viktor set to work.

Yuuri, Viktor soon discovered, liked a firm grip of the hand on his shaft, barely moving, and a deep suction that Viktor himself would have found painful. The combination set him writhing across the sheets until Viktor had to throw a hand over his hips to stop him thrusting up into Viktor’s mouth. Once Yuuri had settled again and was merely gasping and tearing Viktor’s bedding to shreds, Viktor took his free hand and gently cupped Yuuri’s hanging testicles, massaging them slightly until Yuuri was crying out in pleasure.

It hadn’t been Viktor’s intention to tease him, but it took a long time to bring Yuuri to completion, even though he was clearly wracked with sensation. Finally Viktor slipped his hand back to press a knuckle softly into his perineum, and then Yuuri shattered, spilling into Viktor’s mouth with a hoarse scream that nearly had Viktor climaxing untouched with its unrestrained lust.

Viktor suckled him through it until the aftershocks died down, and then let Yuuri’s cock fall out of his mouth so he could crawl back up the bed. To his surprise, Yuuri seized him instantly and kissed him, his inexpert tongue plunging into Viktor’s mouth to chase after the taste of himself. “How was that?” Viktor asked once Yuuri released him.

“Divine,” Yuuri breathed, chest still heaving. He looked over at Viktor and quirked a smile. “As divine as you look.” Viktor laughed, settling himself onto the pillows beside him.

“I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart.” He let his hand fall onto Yuuri’s chest, fingers splayed wide. “And now I think a nap is in order, don’t you?”

“What about you?” Yuuri asked, shifting onto his side to face Viktor. “You’re still...”

“I’m perfectly alright,” Viktor assured him. “Bringing you pleasure is all I could ask for.”

“Oh.” Yuuri bit his lip, looking... disappointed? “I thought...”

Viktor propped himself up on one elbow. “You thought? What did you think, darling?” Yuuri shook his head, blushing. “Yuuri, if there’s one thing I won’t stand for, it’s shame in bed,” Viktor said, tucking his finger under Yuuri’s chin and tilting his face up. “Tell me what you want.”

“I thought you might... might touch yourself,” Yuuri said, his face luminous with embarrassment. “And I could...”

“Could watch?” Viktor finished. Yuuri nodded. “That, Yuuri, is perfectly natural to want, and I will happily oblige you.” He shuffled a little backward on the bed, putting a bit of space between them. “Is your view sufficient?” Yuuri’s eyes flicked down to Viktor’s cock and then back to his face, and he nodded. Viktor licked across his own palm and took himself in hand.

He had softened slightly since Yuuri’s orgasm, but not much, and before long had brought himself back to full hardness, his breath coming quicker. Yuuri’s eyes were dark as he watched Viktor’s hand move along his cock, lower lip temptingly pinned between his teeth, and Viktor found himself close to the edge much faster than he would have predicted. Yuuri licked his lips, unconscious and hungry, and Viktor heard himself moan. Those eyes, those deep, dark, warm eyes flicked up to meet his, and Viktor shuddered and climaxed, spilling over his own hand and the sheets between them, unable to look away from Yuuri’s gaze.

“Beautiful,” Yuuri breathed, and leaned forward to brush his lips over Viktor’s. “Thank you.”

“My darling, it was utterly my pleasure,” Viktor managed. He slid back into place, putting the damp spot behind him, and carefully pressed his body along Yuuri’s. Yuuri let him, settling into his side with a contented sigh, and Viktor closed his eyes.

———

If the damned servants didn’t appear with the dessert course in the next ten seconds, Mathieu decided, he could not be held responsible for his actions.

He’d suffered through three courses already, knuckles white around his forks and knives as he tried to play it calm for Josef’s sake. He’d even forced himself to look at Christophe when the damned man spoke, feigning an interest he did not feel. Chris was always looking at him when he did, those green eyes that Mathieu had once thought  _ sweet _ boring into him like he was a butterfly pinned to a card. Well, Mathieu wasn’t falling for  _ that  _ again.

Josef asked after Chris’ horses when the pudding was finally brought out, and Chris lit up, talking about his Genevieve with the sort of love and respect he was incapable of feeling for another person. It made Mathieu sick to hear. “Didn’t Genevieve fail you in the last race?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the snarl out of his voice. “I’m surprised you’re still betting your all on her.” He bit back a pointed remark about loyalty, but judging from the look on Josef’s face, he hadn’t done very well.

“She was a little slow at her last showing, it’s true,” Chris said placidly, taking a bite of pudding. “But everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?”

Mathieu was going to  _ put his spoon through Chris’ eye. _ “Not everyone,” he managed, stabbing the pudding instead of the man’s face. “Not if the first chance ended in spectacular failure.”

“Depends on your definition of ‘spectacular,’” Chris mused, for all the world as though they were really talking about horses.

Mathieu thought of the letter hidden in his desk,  _ Mat _ scrawled across the front in that familiar, unhurried hand, and then thrust it away as a betrayal by his own mind. He was going to burn it when he got back upstairs, he resolved. Never mind the other times he had resolved to destroy it unread;  _ this _ time, he would really do it.

“It takes a lot for a failure to be truly unforgivable,” Josef agreed, flicking his eyes towards Mathieu like he knew what was really being discussed. He might, at that; it would be just like Christophe to enlist Mathieu’s guardian in his dogged pursuit of forgiveness. God only knew what twisted version of the story he had spun for the man.

Mathieu pushed his plate away. “Excuse me, Josef; I’ve got a slight headache. I think I’ll retire for the night, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Josef said, his face wrinkling in concern, and Mathieu softened towards him. It wasn’t Josef’s fault that Chris had tricked him too, and Mathieu really did love him as a guardian and friend.

“I hope you feel better soon,” Chris said softly. Mathieu forced himself to acknowledge him, a sharp nod in his direction, and then fled the dining room.

Back in his bedroom, Mathieu opened his drawer and reached under the stack of papers in the right corner, drawing out a sealed envelope. He had found it on his pillow a week after the whole affair had happened, and no less than a dozen times had resolved to burn it, or tear it to pieces unread and scatter them from his window. Mathieu carried it to the candelabra on his dresser, held it just out of reach of the flame for several long moments, and then cursed himself for a weakling and stowed it again.

He wouldn’t read it. That much he could promise himself. Whatever Christophe had to say, whatever cheap defense he had constructed in order to live with himself, Mathieu was not interested. He shoved the envelope back under the stack of papers, locked the drawer tight, and went to change for bed.


	4. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had dined briefly before retiring back to a bed with fresh sheets, and Yuuri spent the night wrapped securely in Viktor’s arms. He had never slept so close to anyone before, not even Fumio on the nights he deigned to share Yuuri’s bed. He felt safe, safer than he would have expected; he and Viktor were still practically strangers, for all they had shared physically. But it was hard to grow anxious about the strangeness with Viktor’s heartbeat thrumming under his ear.
> 
> They breakfasted, scandalously clad in just dressing gowns and shirts; Viktor’s housekeeper didn’t bat an eyelid, and Yuuri wondered just how many trysts Viktor had brought back here. Thinking of them made him uncomfortable, though, so he shook them off and focused again on Viktor, who was describing his dream in crystal-clear, lascivious detail to make Yuuri blush and harden inside his dressing gown.

They had dined briefly before retiring back to a bed with fresh sheets, and Yuuri spent the night wrapped securely in Viktor’s arms. He had never slept so close to anyone before, not even Fumio on the nights he deigned to share Yuuri’s bed. He felt safe, safer than he would have expected; he and Viktor were still practically strangers, for all they had shared physically. But it was hard to grow anxious about the strangeness with Viktor’s heartbeat thrumming under his ear.

They breakfasted, scandalously clad in just dressing gowns and shirts; Viktor’s housekeeper didn’t bat an eyelid, and Yuuri wondered just how many trysts Viktor had brought back here. Thinking of them made him uncomfortable, though, so he shook them off and focused again on Viktor, who was describing his dream in crystal-clear, lascivious detail to make Yuuri blush and harden inside his dressing gown.

“Do you like horses, Yuuri?” Viktor asked as they were dressing back in his bedroom.

“Well enough, although I never thought to own one just for riding,” Yuuri said, fastening his cufflinks. “I know you do, though.”

Viktor flashed a quicksilver grin. “My reputation precedes me, in more ways than one. Fancy a ride with me, darling?”

The horse Viktor presented him with, a slim, placid beast, was named after his owner. Yuuri was delighted to see Viktor finally blush himself when he introduced them. “A bit of vanity on the part of my younger self,” he explained. “I would change it if I could, but he won’t answer to anything else now.” The horse Viktor rode was called Makkachin, and she neighed affectionately at him and attempted to chew his hair. Yuuri took a moment to wonder at Viktor’s transporting his prize racehorse to his country estate on the off chance that Yuuri would like a ride with him, but the ways of horsemen were mostly foreign to him. Perhaps it was usual behavior.

Viktor’s estates were expansive, and they rode along the south edge peaceably, chatting about this and that. “Your grounds are beautiful,” Yuuri said, gazing out along the fields. “Do you spend much time here?”

“No,” Viktor said, “not much. The city has too many delights for me to remember the delights of the country very often.”

“If it were mine, I don’t think I would ever leave,” Yuuri said, almost to himself. If Viktor heard, he didn’t comment. Gathering himself, Yuuri went on, “Have you had the estate long?”

“My father deeded it to me seven years ago, after...” Viktor’s voice trailed off and he leaned forward to pat Makkachin’s neck.

“After?” Yuuri prompted.

“After he separated from my mother,” Viktor said briskly, looking away across the border of his grounds. Yuuri felt a sick twist of shame at pressing on such a delicate topic, but when Viktor looked back at him it was with a small but genuine smile, so perhaps he was forgiven.

They rode aimlessly for a few hours, coming to a halt in a lovely corner of the grounds where a river flowed under some expansive trees. Viktor revealed he had brought a blanket, and he and Yuuri stretched out in the shade while the horses grazed and watered themselves. Viktor tucked a flyaway strand of Yuuri’s hair back into place, and that was all it took for them to fall back into each other’s mouths. Every time Yuuri’s hands went to the fastenings of Viktor’s clothing, however, Viktor would stop him and redirect him back to their kissing. “There’s joy in just exploring each other’s mouths,” Viktor murmured after the third time. “Plenty of time for bodies later, but for now I want to learn your mouth.”

“Don’t you know it already?” Yuuri asked, breathless.

Viktor laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. There’s plenty still to explore.” He kissed him again, long and languorous, and Yuuri melted under his touch. One of Viktor’s hands was tangled boldly in Yuuri’s hair, the other low on his hip, and his mouth was utterly relentless, barely letting him stop for air until he learned the trick of breathing through his nose. Yuuri had never dreamed kissing could be like this; the dry pecks he’d shared with Fumio were like unto a different species from the hot, demanding kisses of the Devilish Duke, his lips sucking, his teeth nipping, and his tongue drawing Yuuri’s out for a feverish dance between their mouths. Viktor’s lips were red and bitten by the time he drew back, and Yuuri knew he could be in no better state. “See?” Viktor murmured, reaching up to brush his thumb across Yuuri’s bruised lower lip. “No better way to spend an hour or two, is there?”

Yuuri privately thought that spending an hour or two with Viktor’s head between his legs might rival it, and perhaps it was written across his face, because Viktor laughed. “Alright, point taken, darling. Perhaps it depends on the mood of the day.”

Yuuri was seated in his lap by that point, Viktor’s back pressed up against the tree trunk. Yuuri shifted and the clothed bulk of his erection rubbed against Viktor’s stomach, making him hiss. “And thus we come across the delightful consequence,” Viktor said, laughter once again in his voice. “Allow me to help you with that?” At Yuuri’s nod, his clever fingers went to work on Yuuri’s flies, quickly freeing Yuuri’s straining cock. Viktor held his palm up to Yuuri’s mouth; Yuuri, remembering what he had done last night, licked wetly across it. “Thank you,” Viktor said, reaching down to wrap his hand around Yuuri’s cock.

“You must tell me how you like it, dear one,” Viktor whispered as Yuuri’s eyes fell closed at the slick tightness of his hand. “Do you touch yourself like I touched you last night with my mouth, tight and strong? Or do you prefer it some other way by hand?”

“I—I barely know,” Yuuri gasped. “I do not touch myself that often.”

“Then we will discover it together.” Viktor dropped a kiss under Yuuri’s jaw and proceeded with the most delightful series of experiments Yuuri had ever seen or read about, testing speed, tightness of grip, and, most excitingly, twists of his wrist. Yuuri directed him, finding his natural shyness rapidly falling away the closer he got to bliss, and under Viktor’s attentions he discovered  _ exactly _ how he liked to be touched. Viktor touched him and touched him and touched him until Yuuri flew into a thousand pieces once again, crying out for all he was worth to the birds and trees.

“I love the sounds you make when you come, Yuuri,” Viktor said as he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hand. Yuuri bit his lip, feeling his cheeks heat. “No, do not be shy,” Viktor went on, voice stern but gentle. “There is nothing more erotic to me than the sounds of uninhibited pleasure. And your voice is so beautiful normally, the sound of your climactic cries could not be anything but utterly enchanting.”

Yuuri’s head was still swimming with the aftershocks. “You think my voice is beautiful?”

“I do,” Viktor confirmed, tucking the handkerchief away and returning his gaze to Yuuri’s face with a smile. “I have ever since you first spoke to us in that tavern.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. No one had ever complimented his voice before. “I like yours too,” he found himself saying. “It’s very masculine, and everything you say sounds soothing, even when you are teasing me.”

Viktor kissed him, swift and sweet. “Thank you, darling.”

Yuuri shifted in his lap again. “Do you want me to...”

Viktor chuckled. “No, thank you. My preliminary investigations indicate that your stamina far outstrips mine; should I come now, I am not sure I could keep up with you in our bed tonight.”

“Oh,” Yuuri murmured. “Another way I am deficient.” No wonder Fumio could barely stand to touch him, if it took Yuuri too long to reach pleasure.

“Never say that again,” Viktor said sharply. “You are  _ not _ deficient, not as a lover nor in any other way. Stamina such as your is to be envied.” Something flashed behind his bright eyes, some invective that he was choosing not to express. Yuuri just nodded and clambered out of his lap, doing up his flies and stretching.

They rode back in companionable silence, and lunched on the leftovers of yesterday’s pies before retiring to the library. Even in his much-neglected country estate, Viktor kept a splendid library, and Yuuri lost several hours to a tome about the life cycle of butterflies. That night, they stripped bare and Yuuri brought Viktor to a shuddering conclusion with his hand, Viktor descending once again upon Yuuri’s cock to suck him to completion once he had gotten his breath back. Yuuri fell asleep again to the sound of Viktor’s heartbeat, strong and steady under his ear.

———

_ Best not to grow accustomed to this, _ Viktor thought to himself ruefully as he woke to Yuuri’s hair tickling his mouth and a deep-seated sense of contentment. It was only for a week, after all, and two days were already spent.

He slipped from bed, wrapped himself in a dressing gown, and went to find his housekeeper. “Breakfast in the garden today, I think,” he told her.

“An excellent idea, sir. The weather is lovely,” was all she said, but he knew that she was wise enough to make herself scarce once the spread was laid out. Discretion was his watchword when hiring servants, and she had been in his employ for many years.

When he made it back to his chambers, Yuuri was sitting up in bed, a picturesque portrait of temptation with the sheets pooled around his waist, leaving his ample chest bare. “I woke and you were gone,” Yuuri mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“My apologies, dearest,” Viktor said, walking over and sitting next to him. “I was merely arranging our breakfast. I thought we might eat in the garden today.”

“Oh.” Yuuri was clearly not fully awake; sleep hung around him in an almost visible aura. “I thought it was like after the nights with Fumio.”

Hating himself for taking advantage, Viktor asked, “Did your husband often leave you alone in the mornings?”

Yuuri nodded, and seemed to come back to himself a bit, easing Viktor’s guilt. “He did not like intimacy, my husband, and especially not with me. Waking together seemed too much for us to share, I think, given our deficiencies. Not that I am deficient, as I have been well schooled on that matter,” he added, catching Viktor’s eye with a wry grin. “But he and I were, I am discovering, exceedingly ill-suited to one another in many respects.”

_ I want to dig your husband out of his grave and thrash his corpse, _ Viktor felt the urge to growl, the same as he had felt the day before, when Yuuri had spoken of  _ deficiencies. _ Instead he tipped forward and gently nipped at Yuuri’s shoulder. “I shall endeavor not to leave you alone when you wake again,” was all he said.

“I would appreciate it,” Yuuri murmured. “You spoke of breakfast?”

“Indeed I did,” Viktor said, forcing brightness back into his voice and standing. “And it should be prepared by now. Come, here is your dressing gown; let us go in search of food.”

The garden was an  _ excellent _ idea, if Viktor did say so himself. The light filtered through the trees beautifully, and the colors of the flowers reflected off Yuuri’s skin in bright splashes. He had neglected trousers under his dressing gown, to Viktor’s delight, and Viktor kept getting flashes of thick thigh that made his mouth water more than the toast and jam did. He kept his hands to himself, though; the day was long, and there was plenty of time to sink his teeth into the meat of Yuuri’s thigh and leave a mark that would linger past their time together.

Yuuri, it seemed, had other ideas, for the hand that was not bringing sausage to his mouth (and wasn’t  _ that _ a suggestive sight) found its way onto Viktor’s knee, and kept creeping up his leg as they talked. Viktor felt himself harden with an excited thrill; it had been a long time since a mere hand on his leg had aroused him. He kept his voice level, however, and endeavored to focus on Yuuri’s conversation, which was about a play he had recently seen. Not very well, as it turned out, however.

“You’re not listening at all, are you?” Yuuri asked, an amused lilt to his voice, startling Viktor into realizing that no, he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Viktor said ruefully. “I’m a mite distracted at the moment.”

Yuuri’s hand tightened on his leg and he put his fork down. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This food is delicious, but it’s not quite what I wanted for breakfast this morning.”

“Oh?” Viktor’s breath came a little quicker, his heart starting to pick up speed. “What can I get you that you would prefer?”

Yuuri stood, a shockingly abrupt uncoiling, and moved around the table, taking hold of Viktor’s chair and pulling it out until he could drop to his knees between Viktor’s legs. Taking Viktor’s face between his hands, Yuuri pulled him into a deep kiss, and Viktor let himself moan loudly, knowing there was no one nearby to hear him. Pulling back, Yuuri looked him deep in the eyes and said, “You are a very kind, considerate man, and I am glad for the chance to get to know you better.”

Before Viktor could so much as begin formulating a reaction to those words, Yuuri dropped low, undoing the tie on Viktor’s dressing gown and tugging at his smallclothes until Viktor’s half-hard cock sprang free. “Tell me how you like it,” Yuuri said, looking up at him, and then bent and took him into his mouth.

Viktor cried out, surprise and pleasure warring together in his voice. “Mind the teeth, darling,” he gasped, the first thing anyone should learn in the art of fellatio. Yuuri hummed, which was  _ fantastic. _ “A little softer,” Viktor said, cupping one hand around the back of Yuuri’s head. “That’s it, perfect.” Yuuri proved as quick a study at this as he had been at kissing, and soon Viktor was clinging to the armrest of his chair and groaning for his life. “Push your tongue under the head,” he rasped, and Yuuri obliged instantly, humming again, which sent Viktor dangerously close to the edge. “Pull off now,” he said, and Yuuri backed off, looking up at him with a frown on those swollen lips.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Viktor stroked his thumb across Yuuri’s cheek. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I was rather close to finishing down your throat.”

“But that was the idea,” Yuuri said, blinking. “That’s what you did for me, so I wanted to do it for you.”

Oh, God, this man was going to be the death of him. “I didn’t want to startle you.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Yuuri said, his swollen lips curling up into a smile. “May I proceed, then?”

Viktor gaped at him, then gave in. “As you were.” Yuuri bent back to his task and soon enough got his wish. A trickle of Viktor’s spend spilled out of his mouth; Viktor swept it up with one finger. “Thank you, darling. You did wonderfully.”

Yuuri knelt up, looking at Viktor’s finger. Then, quick as a snake, he leaned forward and sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pad to clean off the bitter liquid there. Viktor shuddered and, as soon as Yuuri pulled off, swept him into a deep kiss. “You are unbelievable, in the best possible way,” he murmured against Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri just smirked and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Side note: While I'm intensely proud of this fic and was excited to post it, I never _dreamed_ it'd get within spitting distance of 100 subscriptions, let alone by the third chapter. So thank you all for coming on this ride with me! I love you all.)


	5. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever was playing the pianoforte—Chris had forgotten their name before he even arrived at the performance—was surprisingly good. Not good enough to distract Chris from his mission there that night, but decent enough as a backdrop for his intense perusal of Mat’s expressions.
> 
> “You’re staring,” he heard in his ear, and turned to see Josef standing near him. “Rather obviously too.”
> 
> “Can you blame me?” Chris shrugged, loose and easy where inside he was tense. “Everyone should be staring at him; he’s by far the best thing in the room to look at.”

Whoever was playing the pianoforte—Chris had forgotten their name before he even arrived at the performance—was surprisingly good. Not good enough to distract Chris from his mission there that night, but decent enough as a backdrop for his intense perusal of Mat’s expressions.

“You’re staring,” he heard in his ear, and turned to see Josef standing near him. “Rather obviously too.”

“Can you blame me?” Chris shrugged, loose and easy where inside he was tense. “Everyone should be staring at him; he’s by far the best thing in the room to look at.”

“Most people  _ are _ looking,” Josef allowed, “but they’re doing it with some discretion. Not like you.” Josef leaned a little closer. “He’s occupied.”

He was, it was true; Mat was deep in conversation with Cao Bin, laughing periodically and flipping his hair out of his eyes. Shameless flirtation. But whenever Chris looked at him, Mat had to dart his eyes away not to meet Chris’ gaze. So Chris wasn’t too fussed about his hand on Bin’s arm. “Preoccupied, more like,” Chris murmured, taking a sip from a glass he didn’t remember obtaining. Brandy, ugh. He winced as it hit his tongue.

“I told you to make up with the boy, and all you’ve done is stare at him,” Josef said. “Give me that; if you’re not going to appreciate a fine brandy then give it to someone who will.”

“You’re welcome to it.” Chris passed over the glass. “And I’m trying to psychically will him to speak to me.”

“Any luck?”

“Not yet, but I have high hopes.” Mat looked at him again, a quick flash of his eyes towards Chris and away, and Chris felt his stomach clench with that potent mix of shame, guilt, and longing that Mat’s face always brought these days. Absently, he missed the brandy; he could have used something to dull the intensity.

“If you ask me,” Josef said conspiratorially, “you can never go wrong with a grand gesture.”

“What?” That distracted Chris enough to tear his gaze away from the love of his life and look at his uncle. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well, you’ve tried speaking with him and he wouldn’t let you, and you’ve tried... whatever it is you’re trying now, and that hasn’t worked either.” Josef took a sip of brandy, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Time for your forte: Something dramatic.”

“Hmm.” Chris tapped his finger against his lips, a move he’d seen Viktor do many a time. “Now there’s a thought.”

“You have to be  _ you, _ Christophe. That’s the only way you’ll get him to fall back in love with you.” Josef nudged him. “And hurry, before he throws himself away on someone lesser.”

“Cao Bin is a fine man,” Chris said, feeling the strange urge to defend his rival.

“But he doesn’t love Mat. You do,” Josef insisted. “Now  _ do something _ before it’s too late.”

“Yes sir.” Chris saluted, making Josef laugh, and took his leave. No one would notice his absence except Mat, and what was that saying?  _ Absence makes the heart grow fonder? _ Chris could only hope.

———

“Careful with the jar, darling,” Viktor murmured as Yuuri tipped it, the precious oil inside spilling out over his fingers. “That’s enough to start. Rub it between your fingers to warm it.” Yuuri obliged, his now-slick fingers sliding together. “That’s perfect. Are you ready?”

“Are you?” Yuuri asked, looking up from his fingers to raise an eyebrow at Viktor. “I’m hardly the one being imposed upon this evening.”

“It isn’t an imposition,” Viktor insisted. “It’s lovemaking. Now, are you ready?”

“Yes, Viktor, I’m ready.”

“Good.” Viktor kissed him, deep and languid, and lay back, tucking his hands under his knees to splay himself open. “Circle the pad of your finger around my entrance to spread the oil around.”

The first brush of Yuuri’s finger was almost shocking, for all Viktor knew it was coming. The man himself was wearing an expression of intense concentration as he touched Viktor carefully. “That’s perfect, Yuuri,” Viktor said. “Now gently push just the tip of your finger inside.”

“And you’re certain this won’t hurt you?” Yuuri asked, his expression morphing into hopeful doubt. “I don’t want to do this if it will hurt you.”

Viktor fought back many more unkind thoughts about the deceased Fumio and said, “Lovemaking doesn’t hurt as long as you take the proper time. Go slow, and use enough oil, and it feels like nothing but pleasure.”

“Alright. Here I go.” Viktor felt Yuuri breach him and let out a small huff of breath. It had been rather a long time since he’d taken anything up that particular avenue. Yuuri sank his finger in up to what Viktor assumed was the first knuckle and then stopped. “How is that?”

“Perfect. You can go a little deeper, just go slow.” Yuuri’s finger pushed further inside his body and Viktor hummed. “Now pull it out a ways and come back in.”

Yuuri got the hang of matters quickly, setting up a nice rhythm, and it wasn’t long before Viktor was directing him to add another finger. “You look rapt,” Viktor said, amused, as Yuuri’s mouth fell open once he was in Viktor up to the palm with two fingers.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Yuuri breathed. “I’m  _ inside you.” _

“Splay your fingers out,” Viktor instructed. “The point is to stretch me; don’t be afraid of hurting me. I’m perfectly relaxed and I have done this before; I know what I can take.” Viktor moaned a little when Yuuri started to properly open him up. “Keep your fingers that width apart but start to pull out. Not all the way, but a little, to stretch my entrance.” Yuuri kissed his knee, a startlingly sweet gesture when he was knuckles-deep inside Viktor, and did as he was bid. “I can take a third finger now, Yuuri; you’re doing very well. More oil first, though.”

“You’re so hot inside,” Yuuri said as he coated a third finger in the oil. “It’s like I can feel your heart beating.”

“Think of how that heat will feel on your cock,” Viktor said, to see that gorgeous flush creep down Yuuri’s neck. He hitched himself open a touch more and gasped as Yuuri pushed three fingers into him up to the hilt. “Ohhhh, you are getting a feel for this, my dear.”

“More stretching?”

“Mhm.” Viktor let his mind wander as Yuuri worked him, until a jolt of sensation shocked him back to himself. “Darling?”

“Mhm?” Yuuri hummed teasingly, kissing his knee again.

“Twitch your index finger just a hair to the right?” Yuuri did so and Viktor cried out sharply. “Remember that spot when you are fully sheathed in me,” he panted. “That is the magic spot.”

“There’s a magic spot?” Yuuri asked, brow furrowed, and touched it again. Viktor groaned.

“Yes,” he managed. “The act of being filled is its own source of pleasure, to be sure, but that spot, yes, that one,” he babbled as Yuuri stroked over it once more, “is something of a secret button locked inside us.”

“Interesting,” Yuuri murmured, brushing against it again. “I had no idea.”

“I think I’m ready to take your cock now,” Viktor said, partly because it was true but also to gain a respite from Yuuri’s newfound interest in taking Viktor apart solely via his prostate. “Pull out, darling, and I’ll get you ready.”

Yuuri allowed himself to be manhandled as Viktor took him by the shoulders and laid him flat on the bed. Viktor picked up the jar and warmed a healthy amount of oil between his hands before reaching down and starting to coat Yuuri’s cock, already a comfortable way towards being fully erect. He stroked until the member was rock hard and Yuuri was starting to writhe, and then wiped his hands on the sheets and straddled him. “Look at me, Yuuri,” he breathed, and Yuuri’s eyes, those two splendid pools of black beauty, snapped onto his. Without looking away, Viktor grasped Yuuri’s cock and sank down onto him. “Don’t look away from me.”

“Oh God,” Yuuri moaned, “oh God,  _ oh God,” _ but he did as Viktor asked and kept his eyes trained on Viktor’s even as they filled with rapturous tears.

“Tell me how it feels,” Viktor purred once he was fully seated, leaning forward to take some of his weight on his hands on Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri blinked, tears spilling down his face to soak into the sheets. “Heat,” he groaned, “and tightness, and  _ you. _ I feel as though I am surrounded by you, as though the very air in the room has turned into you.” Viktor bent down and kissed him, gasping into his mouth as the change in angle brushed Yuuri’s cock against his prostate. “Tell me,” Yuuri panted, every muscle in his body straining against the primal urge to thrust, “tell me how it feels for you.”

Viktor kissed him again and pushed himself up, canting his hips forward until Yuuri’s cock slid partway out of him and then taking him back in. “I can feel you all the way up my spine,” Viktor moaned, starting up a slow back-and-forth rhythm. “It’s like your hands are inside me, touching me everywhere.”

Yuuri cried out, hips twitching under Viktor’s assault. “Can I—Viktor,  _ can I—” _

“Your body knows what to do, Yuuri.” Viktor sat up and began to rock properly, letting his head loll forward with pleasure. “Let your body do what it’s longing to do.” He gathered Yuuri’s hands from where they were clenched into the sheets and placed one on each of his hips, where they grasped hold with a force that Viktor dearly hoped would leave bruises.

Yuuri began to thrust up into him, clumsily at first but soon gaining a mastery of the basic rhythm Viktor was employing. It soon became difficult for Viktor to remember that he was meant to be teaching Yuuri, to think of anything at all but the way Yuuri’s hands on his hips pulled him down to meet each thrust up into his body. He bent forward again over Yuuri’s chest, crying out and forcing his eyes open to see Yuuri’s face.

_ Oh, I am in trouble, _ was all Viktor could think, for Yuuri’s face was an indescribable wonderment, every scrap of pleasure he was feeling written across it in the wrinkles of his brow and the panting openness of his perfect lips. Viktor felt the coiling inside of him that meant the end was coming, like it or not, and took hold of his own cock, twisting his still-slicked hand over it and shouting wordlessly as he erupted.

Yuuri gasped as Viktor convulsed on top of him, and Viktor felt his thrusts grow erratic before that telltale pulse of heat deep within him that meant Yuuri had followed him over the edge. Viktor bowed his neck until his forehead rested against Yuuri’s warm chest and gasped for air; Yuuri’s hands settled on him, one cupping the back of his head and the other at the nape of his neck.

Eventually, Viktor gathered enough scraps of himself back together to sit up and smile lazily at Yuuri. “How was that, my dear?”

Yuuri was blinking up at the ceiling, still breathing deep. “That was...” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut. “That was God, I think.”

Viktor had to kiss him for that. “Beautifully put.”

“It is hard to see how Lord Giacometti could possibly top that.”

Viktor felt a cold chill run down his spine.  _ That’s right, _ he forced himself to think, keeping his face immobile.  _ Christophe will have him next. This is temporary. _

Yuuri regarded him, concern starting to crease across his face at Viktor’s unnatural stillness. “Have I done something wrong?” he asked quietly.

Viktor shook himself. “Nothing at all, sweetheart,” he promised, summoning a smile that came all too easily. “You were utterly unmatched.”

Yuuri twisted his mouth, wry. “Flatterer.”

“It is easy to flatter you, for you deserve every compliment known to man,” Viktor proclaimed, and Yuuri laughed. “Now come, dearest, let us clean ourselves and fetch some fresh bedding. I’m afraid we’ve made rather a mess of this set.”

———

Mathieu sighed as his bedroom door clicked shut behind him and shrugged his dinner jacket off. He loved Josef, he truly did, but the man’s desire for dinner parties was insatiable, and Mathieu had never loved society in the way his guardian did. He rubbed the back of his neck and sat down at his desk. He would just take a few moments to sketch that strange hat worn by one member of the party, and then it would be bed for him.

He was barely a few strokes into the drawing before a scraping at his window drew his attention.  _ There must be a storm brewing, to throw the branches of the tree against my window, _ he thought, and stood to go look. But he froze as soon as he caught sight of the window, which was slowly inching itself open.

No, not inching itself—someone was slowly working at it; a leg appeared, and another, and then a familiar mop of blond hair. “What on earth are you doing?” Mathieu hissed, rushing forward with the undeniable urge to push Christophe back out the way he had come. “Have you gone mad?”

“You wouldn’t speak to me,” Chris said, as though that were any explanation at all. “I had to resort to drastic measures.”

“By breaking into my bedroom?” Mathieu gaped at him, brushing himself off without a care in the world. “What if you had fallen, what if someone had  _ seen you? _ Are you trying to ruin me?”

“Really, Mat,” Chris scolded, for all the world as though  _ he _ were the one in the wrong here. “I  _ was _ careful, both of my footing and of my surroundings. No one saw me, and if there had been any chance of it, I should not have come.”

“I wish you had not come,” Mathieu snapped, feeling a sick rush of what he decided must be pleasure at the flicker of pain across Chris’ face.

“You wouldn’t speak to me,” the man repeated. “Did you get my letter?”

“What?” Mathieu blinked at him. “What letter?”

“Last year,” Chris said. “Did you get my letter?”

It took an effort of will not to look over at his desk drawer. “Oh, that. Yes, I got it.”

“You didn’t reply,” Chris said. His green eyes were glittering in the candlelight as they bored into Mathieu’s. “What did you think of it?”

“I didn’t read it,” Mathieu said, endeavoring for an airy tone. “I burned it, in fact, without opening it.”

Another pained wince went across Chris’ face, but he recovered quickly and said, “No matter. I can repeat myself well enough now.”

“You will do no such thing,” Mathieu said firmly. “You will leave,  _ at once, _ the way you came. I have no interest in anything you have to say.”

“I came this far, Mat,” Chris said imploringly. That _ damned nickname. _ Was he even blinking? “You could at least hear me out.”

Damn it, was Mathieu really so weak? After  _ everything, _ was he really going to give in to this charlatan? It appeared so. “Fine,” Mathieu bit out. “Speak your piece and go.”

“I love you,” Chris said, and Mathieu wheeled around and gripped the back of his chair. It was an unbearable display of weakness, but worse would have been to show his expression to Christophe just then. “I love you, Mat, and I want to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

Mathieu tilted his face up, willing the tears to evaporate. “How can you say that?” he asked, and there was a distinct wobble in his voice, damn it all to hell. “You love me? You love me enough to throw yourself into the arms of the first willing person who comes your way. Am I meant to be grateful for such a love?”

“I was weak. I was weak and I was scared of what I felt for you.”

Mathieu whirled back around. “Are you so weak-willed that the concept of love frightens you? What is it they call you? Oh yes, the  _ Angel,” _ he sneered. “Never has a nickname suited a man less.”

“You are right on all counts,” Chris said, implacable as stone but for the emotion in his eyes that Mathieu would  _ not _ fall for. Not again. “I was weak-willed, and pathetic, and any other invective you care to throw at me. I loved you, and I knew you deserved marriage and fidelity, and I did not know whether I was capable of giving you either, for all I loved you. So I panicked, and I erred.”

“And now?”

“I’ve changed.” Chris took a step forward; Mathieu took a step back. Chris halted and held his hands up. “I’ve changed, Mat. I’ve reckoned with myself, and I’ve reckoned with my feelings for you, and I’m ready to give you what you deserve now.”

Mathieu scoffed. “And I’m to take your word for it? Stake my happiness, my  _ reputation _ on your ability to keep your trousers on?”

“I haven’t touched another person in that way since I came to terms with what I felt for you,” Chris said, his damned eyes piercing. “Not a soul, Mat, I swear it.”

“No? Hardly a good prospect for your wager,” Mathieu spat.

“The wager’s a damned sham,” Chris snapped, the first signs of anger in his face. “I had just heard the rumors of you and  _ Cao Bin _ and drowned my heartbreak in a bottle. I’ve regretted it since I woke the morning after, but we’d set the damn thing down.”

“Heartbreak.” Mathieu snorted. “You have no heart to break.”

“That’s not true,” Chris said. He took another step forward, and this time Mathieu stayed where he was. “I have a heart,” he went on, taking another step, until he was close enough to put a hand on Mathieu’s arm, “and it’s yours. Anything you ask of me to prove it, I’ll do.”

“Anything?” Mathieu whispered, turning his face away.

“Anything you want.”

Mathieu swallowed, fighting for a steady voice. “I want you to leave.”

He could hear Chris’ breathing stop short for a moment, and then the man sighed. His hand dropped from Mathieu’s arm, and Mathieu listened as his footsteps walked away, back towards the window. When he heard the sound of the sash dropping back into place, he fell into his chair and covered his face with his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A song for Mat.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-jgiwvWLzg)


	6. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Almost there,” Viktor’s voice rumbled from just behind Yuuri, his hands firmly planted over Yuuri’s eyes. “Now step carefully over the threshold, just like that, and voila.” He pulled his hands away from Yuuri’s face, allowing him to blink his eyes open.
> 
> They were in the garden, the sunset a gorgeous streak of orange on the horizon, soft candlelight brimming from several places on the table. Their chairs sat nestled close together, a spray of wildflowers between them that Yuuri could smell even from where he stood in the doorway. It was, in short, the romantic dinner that Yuuri used to dream about as a child.
> 
> He was in a great deal of danger.

“Almost there,” Viktor’s voice rumbled from just behind Yuuri, his hands firmly planted over Yuuri’s eyes. “Now step carefully over the threshold, just like that, and  _ voila.” _ He pulled his hands away from Yuuri’s face, allowing him to blink his eyes open.

They were in the garden, the sunset a gorgeous streak of orange on the horizon, soft candlelight brimming from several places on the table. Their chairs sat nestled close together, a spray of wildflowers between them that Yuuri could smell even from where he stood in the doorway. It was, in short, the romantic dinner that Yuuri used to dream about as a child.

He was in a great deal of danger.

“It’s lovely,” he murmured, taking a step out onto the patio. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Viktor stepped in front of him and pulled his chair out. “Only the best for you, my Yuuri. I’ve told my cook to outdo herself as well; we’ll see how she did.”

The roast was already on the table, steaming in the cool night air. “It smells divine,” Yuuri said as Viktor pushed his chair in beneath him. “I’m sure she’s done splendidly.”

Viktor took his own seat and lifted Yuuri’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Shall we commence?” Yuuri nodded, and Viktor picked up the carving knife to start serving.

A great deal of danger indeed, Yuuri reflected as he and Viktor ate and talked, Viktor taking short interludes to kiss Yuuri’s fingers or brush a persistent lock of hair out of his eyes. And yet he felt safe, wrapped in Viktor’s attention like a warm blanket.

Such was the duality of being in love.

Friends and family had long teased Yuuri for being a worrywart, and it was true that he often spent long hours fretting over the smallest matters. But alongside his fear ran a vein of impulsivity, and it had activated the other morning, much to Yuuri’s chagrin. Viktor had listened to his  _ ridiculous _ fears about being left alone in the morning, and had assured him he would always be there, and something long-dormant in Yuuri’s heart had tipped over, sending warmth throughout his body. He knew it to be love; what else could it be? In love with Viktor Nikiforov, the Devilish Duke, the most notorious bachelor in the  _ ton. _

And yet sitting here with him, looking into his eyes and listening to his absurd flattery, Yuuri had never felt safer in his life. It was not to last, but for once he seemed capable of living in the moment, of enjoying it while it did. The future would come, but not yet.

The two of them did not quite make it to the bedroom before falling into each other, and Yuuri experienced the vicious thrill of taking Viktor by surprise and pinning him to the wall, devouring him by the mouth. Viktor grasped at his rear and moaned loudly, and Yuuri drew his tongue into his mouth to chase the lingering aftertaste of their dinner.

“My dear,” Viktor managed to gasp out when Yuuri left his mouth to start kissing down his throat, “unless you want me to ravish you right here on the floor, I suggest we pause merely long enough to get inside the bedroom.”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed, nipping at his jaw. “I don’t fancy walking all that way.”

“It is only a few steps,” Viktor said reasonably. Yuuri cupped his growing erection through his trousers and—was that a giggle? “I take your point,” he went on, still laughing as Yuuri groped him. “How about this?” In a single powerful sweep, Yuuri was in his arms, and it was Yuuri’s turn to laugh as Viktor fumbled with the doorknob and got them into the bedroom.

Viktor tossed him onto the bed and threw himself down atop him, and they spent several delightful moments divesting themselves of their clothing while as attached at the mouth as possible. “I want you again,” Yuuri breathed as Viktor sucked at the join of his neck and shoulder. “I want to have you again, like last night, please may I?” Viktor’s answer was to sink his teeth into the spot beneath his lips and then pull away to scramble for the jar of oil in the bedside table.

Viktor seemed as desperate for it as Yuuri; his reactions to Yuuri’s fingers inside him were heightened from what they had been the night before, his cries sharper and his curses more blasphemous as he writhed against Yuuri’s palm. “I’m ready,” he panted all too quickly, “I’m ready for you, Yuuri,  _ take me.” _

Sinking inside him was the same transcendental experience it had been when Viktor inched down on him last night, but this time Yuuri could lean forward and bury his face in Viktor’s neck to muffle his moans while Viktor left raking lines on his back with his nails. Yuuri pulled back just enough to kiss him deeply before he started to move, chasing the rhythm his hips sought almost on their own.

Viktor was bent at an almost impossible angle, but he clutched at Yuuri to keep him close and would not release his mouth for anything. Yuuri could feel Viktor’s cock trapped between their thrusting bodies, and he knew the instant Viktor tipped over the edge by the burst of wet warmth gushing onto their stomachs. Viktor keened, high and loud, and then ran a hand over his face, gasping for air. “I’m sorry,” he managed after a few moments, but he was laughing at himself. “That hasn’t happened to me in quite some time.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor laughed again. “Should I stop?”

“Mmm, don’t. Lean back a bit?” Viktor pushed at Yuuri’s shoulders and Yuuri knelt up, tugging Viktor into his lap. “There, that gets you a bit off the magic spot. Keep going.” So Yuuri did, starting slow and relishing each overstimulated groan issuing from Viktor’s throat as he thrust.

“Tell me how it feels for you,” he murmured after a stretch of long minutes, readjusting his grip on Viktor’s leg and starting to go a little faster as he felt a tightening in his testicles that had become familiar over the past few days.

“It’s like... Walking over hot coals,” Viktor gasped, “dancing on a bed of needles, it’s the most delicious agony,  _ oh.”  _ He raked his fingers over his own face again, arching his back and crying out wordlessly, and Yuuri caught sight of his cock, still hard against his stomach.

“Can I touch you?” Yuuri asked, breathless with the force of his own oncoming release. “Can I touch you, can you finish again? Is that possible?”

“I think so,” Viktor bit out, “I think so,  _ oh Christ, _ do it, Yuuri, touch me, make me come again.” Yuuri let one of Viktor’s legs bow out to the side and grasped hold of his cock, making Viktor shout and thrash on his pillow. “Yes,” he cried, “faster,  _ yes, yes,”  _ and as Yuuri stripped his hand over his erection it pulsed against his palm, a few droplets spilling out to join the mess on Viktor’s stomach as he screamed, uninhibited and ecstatic.

The way Viktor’s hips jumped against Yuuri’s, and the way he clenched inside, sent Yuuri over the edge, and his voice joined the echoes of Viktor’s as he filled him and fell forward, straining for air.

Viktor was whimpering, Yuuri realized when the roaring in his ears died down, little vocalizations with each ragged breath. Yuuri propped himself up with one hand and reached the other towards Viktor’s throat, settling his fingers against the warm skin and feeling the vibrations. Viktor’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, his hands pressing into his face below them.

It fell to Yuuri to clean them, and he slid carefully from the still-tight embrace of Viktor’s body and padded over to the basin of water on the dresser, where a few cloths lay waiting for just this purpose. He performed his own ablutions and then brought one, warmed between his hands, back to where Viktor lay, and carefully wiped him clean, chest and entrance. He returned the cloth to the basin and clambered into the bed, gathering a limp Viktor into his arms.

Viktor came willingly, and tucked his head against Yuuri’s shoulder. Eventually he came back to himself a ways and murmured, “My apologies for disappearing on you, my dear.”

Yuuri kissed the top of his head. “I did not even know such a thing was possible. I don’t begrudge you needing some time to put yourself back together again.”

“It is possible,” Viktor said, pulling back a bit to press his forehead against Yuuri’s. “Merely uncommon, and it has never happened to me before.”

“I shall take it as a flattery,” Yuuri said, and Viktor laughed.

“You should. Your stamina and care are both unmatched. Christ, Yuuri, the things you do to me...”

Yuuri kissed him gently and said, “Sleep, Viktor. You’ve earned it.” Viktor settled against the pillow, obedient, and let his eyes fall shut. Yuuri lay awake for some time afterwards, watching his face as he slept.

———

Viktor woke slowly, aware first of a radiating warmth under his cheek and wrapped around his back. This was so pleasant that he drifted back into sleep for a few moments before sighing and blinking his eyes open. He was curled up on Yuuri’s chest, one of the man’s arms firmly snug around him. That explained the warmth.

He was also sore, in his legs and pelvis, but the delicious kind that meant he had been well-used the night before. Memories came rushing back, and he dropped a kiss just under Yuuri’s nearest nipple, sighing this time in delight and gratitude.

Unfortunately, awareness of that region of his body brought with it the knowledge that he had filled as he slept, and was quite near to relieving himself in the bed. But as he carefully leaned up and dislodged Yuuri’s arm, his lover stirred, frowning and making a soft noise in the back of his throat.

Viktor froze, and Yuuri settled, his hand slipping down to rest on Viktor’s hip. His eyes were flickering beneath his eyelids, clearly close to waking, and Viktor had promised not to let him wake alone. He could wait, he decided, leaning back down next to the man.

Several long minutes passed and Viktor’s discomfort grew accordingly, with no further signs of rousing from Yuuri. He decided to make another play for the commode, but as soon as he sat up Yuuri stirred again. Viktor’s bladder gave a threatening throb, and Viktor, at a loss for what to do, reached forward and gently tapped at Yuuri’s shoulder. “Dearest?” he whispered, tapping him again. “Yuuri, darling, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Yuuri’s face scrunched up adorably and he rubbed at it, blinking one eye open. “What the devil do you mean by this, Viktor?” There was no venom in his voice, only grumpiness, and fondness welled onto Viktor’s face in a smile.

“You could not seem to make up your mind whether to wake or not,” Viktor explained. “I would have let nature take its course, but, well, nature is about to take its course on me, and I did not want you to wake and find me gone.”

Yuuri blinked at him, uncomprehending, and then he snorted. “For heaven’s sake, Viktor, you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met.  _ Go.” _

Viktor darted a quick kiss to his mouth and fled.

When he returned, Yuuri was seated up against the pillows, stretching luxuriously. Viktor could see all manner of marks upon his torso, some of which he barely remembered making. He sat next to Yuuri’s hip and smiled at him. “You could have gone back to sleep.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I would rather be awake.” He bit his lip, regarding Viktor. “Are you quite recovered, after last night?”

“Quite,” Viktor assured him. “I apologize again for thrusting you into the role of caretaker. I was... quite overcome.”

Yuuri waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. You have taken such splendid care of me this week, it was nice to get to take care of you in turn.”

Viktor kissed him, and Yuuri hummed into his mouth. “Shall we go in search of breakfast, since we are both awake?” he asked. Yuuri nodded decisively, and Viktor went for their dressing gowns.

His housekeeper brought him his mail while they ate, and he flicked through it. Nothing that required immediate attention, until he got to the envelope at the bottom of the stack. “Is something the matter?” Yuuri asked, catching his change of expression.

“I’m not sure,” Viktor said honestly, slitting it open with a butter knife. “It is from my mother.”

He could feel his frown deepening as he read, and Yuuri gave up all pretense of eating and watched him, a worried look on his face. Viktor had to fight the childish urge to crumple it up and toss it aside when he finished, instead laying it down with a supreme effort of will. “I must make my apologies again, Yuuri, and I fear you will grow tired of them,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level. “I am summoned back to town; I must leave you today.”

“What?” Yuuri sounded as desolate as Viktor felt. “Has something happened?”

“My mother wishes to see me, and is making a special trip to town in order to do so,” Viktor said. “I told her I was taking a week at this estate, but not that I was spending it with someone, for obvious reasons, so she sees nothing wrong in summoning me back early, and I cannot explain why I wish to remain.”

“I see.” Yuuri stared down at his plate for a moment, then visibly rallied and asked, “Do you have to leave at once?”

“I must, but you do not.” Viktor leaned forward and took Yuuri’s hand. “Please feel free to make use of the estate for as long as you like.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I will not stay without you.”

“It is perfectly alright.”

“No.” Yuuri turned his hand over in Viktor’s and laced their fingers together. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Viktor nodded. “I understand. I  _ am _ sorry.”

“It is not your fault.” When Viktor looked up, Yuuri was smiling at him, a heartbreakingly fragile thing that nonetheless warmed him through. “I’m no longer hungry; let us go and pack.”

They packed in relative silence, barring the occasional question after an article of clothing. Viktor pressed a handful of books from his library on Yuuri and would brook no refusal; Yuuri finally conceded with ill grace but a secret smile as he gazed down at the titles. Minami was summoned to bear Yuuri’s trunk to the carriage, and they took their leave of each other on the path outside the front door. “My dear, it has been an absolute delight, these past few days with you,” Viktor murmured, looking down at Yuuri’s upturned face.

To his surprise, Yuuri laughed at him. “Viktor,” he said, voice mock-scolding and undeniably fond. “This is not goodbye forever.” Viktor raised an eyebrow. “By my count, you still owe me two days.”

Viktor gaped at him, a twist of excitement cutting through the dread in his stomach. “You know,” he said finally, “I do believe you are right.”

“I expect you to claim them before too much time has passed, or I shall grow impatient.” Yuuri leaned forward and caught Viktor’s mouth in a fierce kiss, tangling a hand into his hair and tilting him to the side for better access. Viktor let out a muffled sound of surprise before diving in, his hands tight on Yuuri’s waist.

When Yuuri finally released him, he was flushed and his lips were that delightful shade of bruise-red. “Farewell for now,” Viktor,” he murmured and turned away, Viktor’s hands falling uselessly to his sides as he stepped towards the carriage. Minami handed him inside, stone-faced but for the bright blush on his cheeks, and tipped his hat to Viktor before climbing into his own seat and taking the reins. Viktor watched the carriage go until it disappeared around the bend, and then went inside to make his own preparations.

———

The streets of the city were too damned busy tonight, Chris thought as yet another person bumped into him, knocking him off his gait. He had a telegram from Viktor in his pocket, telling him he was returning early at the behest of his mother, and would Chris please do him the honor of providing an excuse for an early release from her clutches by meeting him for a drink at their club? But that would do no good if Chris could not  _ get there _ through the crush of people. They were not meeting for several hours; hopefully the general populace would have come to their senses and gone home before then.

A particularly strong shoulder hit him in the chest and he swore instinctively, only to bite his tongue when a familiar voice said, “Did I get you? My apologies, old bean.” None other than Cao Bin, Chris’ hated rival, stood before him, brushing Chris’ jacket off with a neat handkerchief. “Damned crush, isn’t it?” he asked jovially. There was a hint of something in his eyes that belied his tone, and Chris nearly raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Intolerable,” was all he said.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Bin said, clapping him on the shoulder. “As an apology for your bruise.”

There was no way out; Chris had nowhere pressing to be, and Bin’s grip on his arm brooked no arguments. “Lead the way,” he said with what he hoped was an imperceptible sigh, extending his arm to let him step in front.

Bin led him to a small, dingy pub a block away, which was mercifully empty inside. He signalled to the barkeep and they claimed a table in the corner. “What’s got you out on a day like today?” he asked as the barkeep set two tall beers in front of them.

“Oh, this and that,” Chris said, waving a hand. In truth, nothing had brought him outside but a vague restlessness, a desire to be anywhere other than where he was. He could not escape himself, however, and as half the city seemed to be operating under the same desire, all it had done was make him more frustrated. “You?” He took a pull of his beer, which was surprisingly good for the establishment. No wonder Bin had sought this place out over the three other pubs they had passed.

“Shopping,” Bin said.

“Bit early for Christmas presents,” Chris replied, a vague suspicion growing in his mind.

“Wasn’t shopping for Christmas presents,” the man said slyly, confirming Chris’ sudden fears. Bin took a long drink from his own glass and set it down on the table with a thunk. “You know Mathieu quite well, I understand,” he said abruptly.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn it all to hell. Chris drank deep, willing the alcohol to go straight to his brain and erase all memory of this conversation even as it was happening. “I’ve known him since we were children,” he said, managing somehow to keep his voice even. “After his parents died, my uncle took him in and raised him. We grew up together.”

“And you’re quite close,” Bin went on, the same evenness in his own tone. “Or at least, you were, until last year.”

Chris shrugged like that hadn’t gone straight to his heart. “People grow apart.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t an incident of some kind?” Bin’s voice was friendly but his eyes were sharp, digging into Chris like knives.

Chris bit his tongue for a few seconds, then said, “Nothing that need concern you. You and he have become quite the pair, from what I hear.”

“I’ve been trying, I won’t lie,” Bin said. “Mathieu’s quite the catch. As I’m sure you know.”

“Anyone would be lucky to have him,” Chris murmured. They both drank, Chris draining his glass and Bin coming close. “Was there anything in particular you wanted to know about him?”

“Not in particular,” Bin said. “Just getting the lay of the land, as it were. You’re practically his family; it seems...  _ prudent _ to get to know you better.”

“Practically.” Whole worlds lived in that  _ practically. _ Chris traced his finger around the lip of his empty glass. “I’m an open book.”

“I’ve heard that about you,” Bin agreed.

There wasn’t a hint of nastiness in his voice, but Chris bristled all the same. Done with games, and the beer starting to settle into his blood, he said bluntly, “You’re not in love with him.”

Just as blunt, Bin shot back, “Are you?”

Chris stared at him, Bin’s eyes boring into his own, but he couldn’t keep it up. The memory of the waver in Mat’s voice as he asked Chris to leave echoed in his ears. He couldn’t honestly keep thinking of the man as a rival; Mat had made it very clear that as far as he was concerned, Chris wasn’t on the field anymore, and he had to respect that.

Chris sighed, looking down. “Mat deserves someone who can make him happy. If that’s you, then God go with you both. If you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment I must be getting to. Thank you for the drink.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Bin said, leaning back and regarding Chris with an almost studious gaze. Chris didn’t quite flee the pub, but it was a near thing.


	7. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor’s mother, the famous beauty Lilia Baranovskaya, was waiting for him when he arrived home. He saw his trunks inside, then went to meet her in the library. “Mother,” he said, able to put genuine warmth into his voice as he walked forward and took her hand. “Forgive my not knocking off the dust of the road, but I did not want to keep you waiting any longer.”
> 
> “Hmm,” Lilia hummed, allowing him to kiss her cheek. As he pulled back, she grabbed hold of his chin and turned his head to the side, peering at a spot on his neck. Viktor had a sudden full-body memory of Yuuri’s hot mouth latched on and sucking, and had to suppress a shiver. “You didn’t tell me you were with someone,” she said, releasing him. He straightened and they both sank into their seats. “If I had known, I would not have summoned you so abruptly.”

Viktor’s mother, the famous beauty Lilia Baranovskaya, was waiting for him when he arrived home. He saw his trunks inside, then went to meet her in the library. “Mother,” he said, able to put genuine warmth into his voice as he walked forward and took her hand. “Forgive my not knocking off the dust of the road, but I did not want to keep you waiting any longer.”

“Hmm,” Lilia hummed, allowing him to kiss her cheek. As he pulled back, she grabbed hold of his chin and turned his head to the side, peering at a spot on his neck. Viktor had a sudden full-body memory of Yuuri’s hot mouth latched on and sucking, and had to suppress a shiver. “You didn’t tell me you were with someone,” she said, releasing him. He straightened and they both sank into their seats. “If I had known, I would not have summoned you so abruptly.”

Viktor waved a hand, the memory of Yuuri’s parting words and kiss enabling him to be sanguine. “Family comes first, Mother,” he said. “Even over affairs of the heart.”

“Affairs of the body, more like,” she said sharply, eyeing him. “Or are you no longer sworn never to love?”

“I have never sworn not to love,” Viktor said, uncomfortably aware that if he had, he might be a liar now. Pushing all thoughts of Yuuri aside, he went on, “I have sworn never to  _ marry _ for love. There is a difference.”

Lilia frowned. “Despite what you may think, Vitya, I have never regretted marrying for love.”

Viktor snorted lightly. “You are forever tied to a man you cannot be in a room with, Mother.”

“Yet I love him still, and am the better off for being married, and happily for so many years.” She leaned forward and took his hand, grasping it until he allowed her to look into his eyes. “Just because your father and I fell apart, it does not mean you are doomed to the same,” she said, her voice crisp but shockingly earnest. “I would see you as happy as we were.”

Viktor gave her a small smile. “You may not regret your choices, Mother, but nonetheless they were what they were, and I have drawn my own conclusions from them. I  _ will _ marry, eventually, and I will do a creditable job as husband. I won’t shame you or Father with my antics. But it will be a business arrangement, not a love match.” Even if the concept of a love match now had a face attached to it.  _ I am  _ not _ in love, _ Viktor told himself sternly, and returned his attention to his mother.

Not soon enough. “There is someone,” she said, leaning back into her chair and smirking. “I see it in your face. This person you have been with means more to you than the others. Now I am even sorrier for calling you away.”

Viktor bit his lip, agonizing over his next words, but it was impossible, as it had ever been, to lie to his mother. “I will confess that my heart is perhaps a trifle more involved than it has been in previous...  _ entanglements.  _ But it does not change my resolution.”

“Who is he?” she asked, the light of challenge in her eyes.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, Mother.”

She tutted and rolled her eyes, but he could see her fondness for him under the exasperation. “Go and change,” she instructed, waving her hand at the door. “Wash, and dress appropriately; you are taking me out to dinner.”

“Am I? How delightful.” With a rakish grin and another peck to her cheek, Viktor took his leave.

Unfortunately, washing and dressing were not actions which required much mental stimulation, and they left too much time for him to  _ think. _

The idea of never being alone with Yuuri again, of never feeling Yuuri’s breath on his cheek, or listening to him expound about mathematics, or hearing his raw cries of pleasure, was unbearable. Inconceivable.  _ I still owe him two days, _ Viktor told himself. But would two days be enough? Could he give Yuuri up after that?

Time enough to decide that once the two days were done, he decided, ignoring the prickle of certainty underneath that told him he already knew the answer. The first step was undoubtedly to find an excuse to sweep Yuuri away for forty-eight hours.

Preferably before Christophe got his chance.

Yuuri was still new to the art of lovemaking, and clearly had been shamefully neglected by his husband; another lover could only be good for him, to widen his experience. And yet the thought of his friend’s hands on Yuuri’s plush body made Viktor feel physically sick, enough that he had to set down his cufflinks and close his eyes for a moment.

His own feelings didn’t matter, he told himself savagely. The wager didn’t matter. All that mattered was Yuuri’s happiness and satisfaction, and if Yuuri still wanted Christophe too, then by God Viktor would stand aside and let it happen. Angry at himself, he snapped his cufflinks into place and went downstairs to meet his mother.

———

Chris arrived at his club at the appointed hour to find Viktor already there, a brandy in his hand and a whiskey on the table. “Was dinner with your mother so dreadful?” Chris asked, dropping into his seat and taking up the glass. “Your face is a picture of irritation.”

Viktor started and covered it by taking a healthy swig. “It was fine,” he said shortly. “Dinner with one’s mother always leaves one with a need for a stiff drink after, is all, no matter how light the conversation.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Chris said, and did so. Setting the glass back on the table, he settled back into his chair and regarded his friend. There was a love bite on his neck, Chris realized; Viktor had made a token effort to hide it with a high collar, but it had slipped over the course of the day. “Well?” he asked, steepling his hands together.

“Well?” Viktor parroted. He was unusually snappish tonight, more so than the presence of Lady Baranovskaya in town really explained. “Well, what?”

“How was your time in the country?” Chris prompted. “I see some evidence that you must have enjoyed yourself a little bit, or at least the other party did.” Viktor coughed and straightened his collar, flushing.  _ Interesting. _ “Were you relieved to get your mother’s summons, or displeased? Tell me that much, at least.”

“I am always pleased to hear from my mother,” Viktor muttered, peevish. Seeing Chris’ raised eyebrow, he shook himself and drained his glass, signalling a passing waiter for another. “My sojourn in the country was more than pleasant, Christophe. I enjoyed myself immensely.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Chris considered, and then said cautiously, “It bodes well for my own upcoming retreat.”

Viktor flushed again, this time an angry red. Chris had to fight not to squirm in his chair with delight. “No doubt.”

Taking a gamble, Chris said, “Do you have any tips for me?” When Viktor gaped at him, Chris waved a hand and went on, “Oh, I know, we’ve a wager on, but friend to friend. I would hate to embarrass myself, following in your footsteps.”

Chris had never seen Viktor’s  _ ears _ redden with rage before. This whole conversation was growing more intriguing by the word.

Slowly, and with the help of his newly-delivered brandy, Viktor mastered himself. All the same, he did not answer for a long time, looking around the room in an admirable attempt at idleness. Chris’ gaze didn’t waver, however, and eventually Viktor murmured, “Be gentle with him.”

“Gentle?”

“He’s not the usual sort we take to bed,” was all Viktor would offer in elaboration.

Chris debated with himself for a long minute over whether to push Viktor any farther; then, choosing his words carefully: “If you were gentle with him, perhaps I should give him somewhat of a rougher ride. Variety, you know.”

Viktor slammed his glass down on the table. “Forgive me, Christophe.” Chris’ full name; Viktor  _ must _ be angry _. _ “I am not good company tonight. I shall see you some other time.”

“Lady Babicheva’s ball in two days,” Chris supplied, suppressing a smirk. Viktor wasn’t looking at him, but it wouldn’t do to rub his face in it. Not yet.

“Yes,” Viktor agreed distractedly. He stood up and brushed himself down. “Forgive me,” he said again, and then was off to the coat room. Chris leaned back in his chair and signalled for another whiskey.

So the great Viktor Nikiforov was in love.

It made a certain amount of sense. Katsuki Yuuri was a famous beauty, and so the grounds for initial attraction were laid. His proposal had come as a complete shock, and the only thing Viktor loved more than surprising people was being surprised himself. Clearly Yuuri had leagues hidden under his cold societal exterior; Chris could easily see Viktor losing himself in those depths, whatever they turned out to be. In another world, with no Mat and no Viktor, Chris supposed he himself could easily have fallen for Yuuri’s charms; certainly the attraction was there.

The jealousy was a telling clue. While Chris had deliberately been a touch cruder than normal tonight, he and Viktor had often traded lovers, and Viktor had never seemed to mind at all. But clearly the thought of Chris making love to Yuuri was tormenting him, to the point of losing his composure in public.

He would never admit it, Chris decided, not without some aid. Chris knew the details of Viktor’s parents’ split as well as anyone, and he had the advantage of being Viktor’s most trusted friend; he knew some of Viktor’s feelings on the subject of love. Getting him to admit he had fallen would be like pulling a cart with no horse. But Chris felt that together, he and Yuuri might be up to the task.

Chris spent two hours carefully formulating his plan, and then tossed back what remained of his whiskey and made for home.


	8. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri was putting his new books into gaps in his library shelves when Yuuko found him. “Sir,” she hissed, drawing close. “There’s someone here for you.”
> 
> “Who?”
> 
> She shook her head. “He wouldn’t give his name. He’s dressed awfully odd too, sir, a hood over his head and tattered clothes. But he has the most lovely green eyes...” she added, trailing off with a dreamy air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my beloved [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear).

Yuuri was putting his new books into gaps in his library shelves when Yuuko found him. “Sir,” she hissed, drawing close. “There’s someone here for you.”

“Who?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t give his name. He’s dressed awfully odd too, sir, a hood over his head and tattered clothes. But he has the most lovely green eyes...” she added, trailing off with a dreamy air.

Lord Giacometti? “I’ll see him,” Yuuri said, wrapping his dressing gown tighter around himself and tying it shut. “Is he in the study?” Yuuko nodded. “Alright, I’ll take it from here. Good night.”

“Good night, sir,” she said, bobbing her head in a curtsey, and he made his way to the study, where the Earl of Bern was indeed waiting for him, dressed like a vagrant. “Lord Giacometti,” Yuuri said, shutting the door behind him. “This is a surprise.”

“Oh, call me Chris,” the man said, coming over to shake Yuuri’s hand. “And I hope you’ll forgive the subterfuge; I needed to speak with you in person, and thought you might not appreciate my coming under my own name.”

“No forgiveness necessary,” Yuuri said honestly, taking a seat and gesturing for Chris to do the same. “You’ve given my maid something to talk about for weeks to come. What did you need to speak about?”

Chris took a deep breath. “Yuuri,” he said solemnly. “You are a most handsome man, and I am truly sorry to put you in this position when you have already compromised yourself with my friend, but I must back out of my part in the wager. I cannot take you to bed.”

Relief rushed through Yuuri like a wave and he almost sagged with the force of it. “Oh,” he managed, running a hand over his forehead to mask his face. “That is perfectly alright, Chris, and nothing you need apologize for. Of course I understand.”

“You are most kind, but that is not all.” Chris sat on the very edge of his chair, leaning forward to drop his voice conspiratorially. “I will not do you the discourtesy of asking after your own feelings, but I believe my friend to be most firmly in love with you.” Yuuri’s heart stopped, and it must have shown on his face because Chris nodded. “I see. And my own heart is set as well, which is why I cannot lend it to you for even so short a time as a week, although I am denied by my beloved. But together, I think we can achieve some happiness for you, and some peace of mind for me.”

Yuuri regarded him. “What did you have in mind?”

“I believe I can goad Viktor into confessing his feelings for you, which he will never do without provocation, sincere though they are,” Chris said. “In return, I ask that you speak to someone who may benefit greatly from your advice. Viktor let slip something which leads me to believe your marriage may not have been as happy as it outwardly appeared. He was not indiscreet,” he added quickly, when Yuuri would open his mouth to interject. “But I know him well, and can often sense what he does not say. The person I love is on the verge of committing himself where his heart does not lie, and I... Well, to put it frankly, I worry for him. Even if he cannot bring himself to return my feelings, he deserves someone who truly loves him.”

Yuuri fiddled with the tie of his dressing gown. “I would certainly be happy to speak with anyone you wish,” he said after a few moments’ consideration. “The topic of an unhappy marriage is, as you have surmised, one I know well, and I would spare any friend of yours if I could. But I cannot agree without knowing their identity. I will not commit myself to intruding on an absolute stranger to me, to give advice that may be unwelcome.”

“It speaks to your character.” Now it was Chris’ turn to run a hand over his face. “Very well. It is Mathieu Bieri.”

“Your uncle’s ward?”  _ How romantic. _ “I know him only distantly, but we have met once or twice.”

“Enough to justify a personal call?” Chris asked. There was a terrible hope in his eyes that called to Yuuri’s sympathy; he must truly be in love indeed.

“I believe so,” Yuuri said. “Very well; I will call on him in a few days.”

“Thank you,” Chris said, his voice hoarse with relief.

“As for your intuitions about the Duke,” Yuuri started, “I will go so far as to confess I certainly  _ hope _ you are right. But how do you intend to convince him to admit his feelings, if they exist?”

“Oh, they exist,” Chris said. “Here is my strategy. I will indicate to Viktor that our plans, yours and mine, are all set. I’m afraid to admit that I have affected a more crude outlook than I felt, in order to plumb the depths of his feelings, for which I beg your forgiveness.” Yuuri waved a hand, listening intently. “Thank you. Due to my affect, he is already disturbed at the notion of us together; if I give him enough lead time, he will stew and fret and finally have no choice but to act, and act decisively, to stop our supposed liaison.” Chris leaned back in his chair. “His heart and his character will not allow otherwise.”

Yuuri bit his lip, thinking hard. Was he willing to go through this level of subterfuge, just to hear Viktor confess his love? Yes, he decided; he was. Even if nothing came of it—and Yuuri was not sure what  _ could _ come of it—to hear the man he loved declare that he loved Yuuri in return was not something he could pass up. “Very well. I am all in, as they say.” His heart was pounding as though he had run a race, rather than listened to what was truly a shocking proposal.

Chris grinned, wicked and sharp. “That, good sir, is the most excellent news I have had all day. Give me a pen and paper and I will write directions for your driver.” Yuuri fetched them from his desk, and Chris scrawled out a note for Minami. “Then we shall agree to meet there in, say, six days’ time? At nightfall?”

“Agreed,” Yuuri said, taking the paper. “Will I see you at the ball tomorrow night?”

Chris made a face. “Much as I would like to skip it, I think it would raise too many questions if I were not there. I would ask for a dance, but perhaps we had best not start too many rumors before everything is settled.”

“I will happily dance with you at the next ball,” Yuuri agreed, and showed him out.

———

It was the nature of Viktor’s  _ particular _ reputation that, for all that much of good society would shun him for his indiscretions, the other half would flock to him, eager for just a taste of scandal. His dance card at balls was invariably full within the first half-hour, and Lady Babicheva’s was no exception; the hostess herself had claimed no less than three dances for herself.

It was damned inconvenient, because Yuuri was not dancing at all.

Viktor caught the most tantalizing glimpses of him as he spun with his various partners, making just enough conversation not to be rude as he scanned the corners of the room. Yuuri was accompanied by his usual ebullient companion, whose name Viktor had had too much brandy to remember. It was hard to tell, occupied as Viktor was, but Yuuri seemed a bit livelier tonight than he had at previous engagements. He was talking with less of his usual reserve, and at one point threw his head back, revealing a long expanse of neck that made Viktor’s mouth water, and laughed heartily at something Miss Crispino said.

“Dear Viktor,” Mila said, drawing his attention back to her as the dance ended. “Where is your head tonight?”

“Forgive me,” he murmured, kissing her hand. “I am merely distracted by my own thoughts.”

“Lucky thoughts,” she said. “There are many here tonight who would give anything to be the one distracting you like this.” Viktor could only look at her, lost for words, and she laughed and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Whoever they are, I hope they deserve you,” she murmured into his ear, then turned in a rustle of silks and was gone.

Feeling as though he’d been beaten about the head somewhat, Viktor went in search of a drink and then of Christophe, finding the first easily enough and the latter with much more difficulty. Eventually he spotted his friend tucked away into a corner, staring furtively off at a group of people clumped together by the large fireplace. Chris did not react when Viktor slung himself into place beside him, which was unlike him. Viktor regarded him for a moment, surprised, then followed his gaze, which was hungry yet sad.

There was only one conclusion to be drawn from a look like that on Chris’ face, and it did not take long to isolate the subject of his stare. “Really?” Viktor murmured, taking a sip of his drink. “Little Mat?”

Chris broke his gaze to scowl at Viktor, which had been Viktor’s intent. “He is older than me, as you well know. And you only have a year on him yourself.”

“Well, he’s certainly grown up,” Viktor allowed.

“We all have,” Chris murmured, flashing Mathieu another look.

Viktor suddenly felt like an awful friend. “What’s the trouble? I thought Mathieu adored you.”

Chris sighed, looking down into the depths of his own glass. “Not anymore. I ruined his regard. He won’t have me, not for anything.”

“His loss,” Viktor said, putting the weight of his own affection behind the words and winning a small smile from his friend. “Is that why...”

“I got drunk enough to make a wretched bet with you?” Chris supplied. “Yes, unfortunately, and it’s only made the situation worse.”

Suddenly aware he was walking on a tightrope, Viktor said, “And... And you still mean to go through with it?”

Chris gave a wry, twisted grin. “What better distraction?” Viktor nodded and gulped from his glass. “The remedy seems to have worked wonders on you,” Chris said, a note of his usual teasing back in his voice. “Don’t think I’ve been too preoccupied with my own woes to notice you staring off into the corner all night.”

“Damn your eyes,” Viktor muttered, and Chris laughed.

“Don’t worry, I doubt anyone else would have been able to ferret out the exact subject of your scrutiny.”

The brandy made Viktor itchy under his skin, desperate to  _ do _ something. “What a pair we make, eh?”

“Indeed,” Chris said, knocking his glass against Viktor’s and drinking. “You look like you are about to vibrate out of your skin, my friend.”

“Something I have to do,” Viktor said vaguely. “This party is too dull for me; I think I’ll be off. Leave you to your own distractions.”

“Cheers,” Chris said dryly, but he winked when Viktor looked at him, and Viktor felt safe making his departure.

It did not take Viktor long to discover the servants’ quarters, where the guests’ various drivers had hidden themselves away. He flagged down his own and sent him home for the night with the carriage, claiming a need for cool night air to clear his head after such a crush.

Minami, he noted after a few moments’ search, was ensconced in the corner with a cup of coffee, trying very hard not to nod off. With an effort Viktor caught his eye and signalled him over. “Minami,” he said, voice pitched low as the boy approached. “I’m afraid I have rather a large favor to ask of you.”

———

Yuuri left Phichit at the door, clasping him warmly in an embrace and seeing him safely into a hired hansom before turning and looking for Minami among the crowd of vehicles now clustered around the entrance. He caught sight of him a few carriages down the row and picked his way over. Minami met him, a shifty cast to his features. Yuuri was just about to ask what was wrong when Minami said, all in a rush, “Sir, please forgive me,” and opened the door to the carriage, handing him inside before he could fully process that someone else was already within.

“Oh,” Yuuri managed, taking in the sight of a brandy-rumpled Viktor Nikiforov. “Oh, you startled me.” He had felt Viktor’s gaze on him all night, until the man’s abrupt departure; never had he  _ dreamed _ that Viktor would have left early to sequester himself in Yuuri’s carriage. His heart began to pick up its pace within his chest.

“Forgive me,” Viktor said ruefully. “I did not mean to frighten you. I only wanted a word.”

“And you decided to take this word by compromising my driver and sneaking into my carriage?”

Viktor’s eyes were deep tonight, a clear dark blue like the ocean as they bored into Yuuri. “I thought you would prefer not to be seen with me, all things considered.”

“Yes, well.” Yuuri put his hands on his legs, suddenly at a loss for what to do with them. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Around them, the carriage began to move, Minami pulling smoothly out of the driveway and onto the paved roads of the city. Viktor did not seem inclined to talk, only to rake Yuuri over with his obscene eyes, so it fell to Yuuri to say, “What was it you wanted to say to me?”

Viktor blinked, his countenance suddenly confused. “What?”

Yuuri bit back a smile. “You said you wanted a word with me, hence this subterfuge. What was it?”

“I...” Viktor trailed off, clearly casting about for anything to say. “I merely wanted to tell you that you look lovely tonight.”

Viktor had said far more scandalous things to him—for heaven’s sake, Yuuri had fucked this man into incomprehensibility—but for some reason, that simple compliment made him blush like a schoolboy. “Thank you,” he said. “You look simply divine yourself, of course.”

The joke made Viktor smile, which had been Yuuri’s goal. “Not as divine as you,” he quipped, and Yuuri laughed. Their eyes were locked together, a desperate tension blooming between them that made Yuuri break out in a sweat and bite his lip. Across from him, Viktor appeared to be in a similar state, fists tight on his thighs and eyes hooded and dark, which made Yuuri’s stomach clench with anticipation.

The carriage rolled over a rock, jolting them both, and suddenly Yuuri found himself in Viktor’s lap with no memory of how he got there. Viktor’s hands were tight, one on his waist and the other providentially on the swell of his rear, and then there was absolutely nothing Yuuri could do but dive into his mouth, moaning as their lips met in a caress that he had missed like a skipped meal, aching and hollow in his belly.

Viktor responded in kind, mouth opening immediately to devour Yuuri whole as his hands flew up and began to work gracelessly at Yuuri’s collar. Yuuri tangled his fingers into the gorgeous silk of his hair as Viktor pried the clothing open and dropped his hungry mouth to work at the revealed skin of Yuuri’s neck. Their erections, both already firm and growing, rubbed against each other, and Yuuri rocked himself into the sensation with a bitten-off cry. “I missed you,” he gasped, and Viktor’s response was to bite viciously into his neck and then claim his mouth again, hands dropping to fumble with Yuuri’s flies.

Yuuri reciprocated, and it was a matter of moments before their cocks were free, Viktor’s satiny and stone-hard in Yuuri’s hand. “Touch me,” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor’s hand began to move against him in that tight, twisting grip that Yuuri loved so much.

Yuuri had never seen Viktor fall apart from this angle before, and found himself lost in Viktor’s stormy eyes as he worked the man to the edge. Viktor was grunting, rough animal noises that set Yuuri’s groin aflame, and he heard himself whimper as his testicles tightened.

Viktor knocked Yuuri’s hand away from his own erection and took them both into his wide grip, stroking them together. The heat of his erection against Yuuri’s own made him give a choked cry and he began to thrust, rubbing his cock along Viktor’s until they both erupted, their spend providentially caught into a handkerchief Viktor had produced from somewhere at the last minute.

They stayed pressed together, catching their breath in great gulps as Yuuri’s heart began to slow again. He pressed his forehead against Viktor’s and willed the moment to last, but of course it could not; soon enough they were themselves again enough to do up their clothing and settle back into their seats, Yuuri across from Viktor.

“What are we to do?” Yuuri asked, unable to stop himself.

Viktor closed his eyes as if in pain, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. “I still owe you two days,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

Yuuri sighed. A surge of bravery came up from nowhere and he said, “I love you, Viktor.” Viktor’s eyes snapped to his. “But I won’t be your affair.”  _ I think it would break my heart, _ he did not say.

Something indescribable was playing out across Viktor’s face, softening his eyes and the hard set of his mouth. “No,” he agreed quietly. “I do not think that would be the correct course of action.”

They looked at each other. Yuuri could see Viktor’s mind whirring, trying to find a solution, but eventually he sighed and said only, “I should take my leave. Minami has agreed to find a quiet corner to unload me once I give the signal.”

“Alright,” Yuuri whispered.

Viktor knocked his fist twice against the roof of the carriage. Two answering knocks came from the front, and a minute later the carriage slowed. Viktor leaned forward and caught Yuuri in one final kiss, slow and deep, and then, before Yuuri could open his eyes again, he was gone.


	9. chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri woke from a delightful dream that he had the further pleasure of realizing had actually been a memory. He could almost feel Viktor’s cock, silken against his, the man’s mouth panting and groaning under his own. Yuuri stood at attention upon waking, the first time since he was a boy, and with a shameful thrill he threw the sheets back and took himself in hand. Replaying the interlude from the night before, this time in full command of it, he spent an extremely pleasurable ten minutes until he had to bite his lip against a cry.
> 
> His good mood lasted him through breakfast, after which he had to force himself to grow solemn. Sequestering himself in his study, he rang the bell and, when Yuuko appeared, said only, “Would you fetch Minami here, please?”

Yuuri woke from a delightful dream that he had the further pleasure of realizing had actually been a memory. He could almost feel Viktor’s cock, silken against his, the man’s mouth panting and groaning under his own. Yuuri stood at attention upon waking, the first time since he was a boy, and with a shameful thrill he threw the sheets back and took himself in hand. Replaying the interlude from the night before, this time in full command of it, he spent an  _ extremely _ pleasurable ten minutes until he had to bite his lip against a cry.

His good mood lasted him through breakfast, after which he had to force himself to grow solemn. Sequestering himself in his study, he rang the bell and, when Yuuko appeared, said only, “Would you fetch Minami here, please?”

The boy had clearly spent a worse night than Yuuri had, to judge by the looks of him. His hair was untidy and there were bags under his eyes, as though he had not slept. He came before Yuuri with shuffling steps, twisting his hat in his hands before him, eyes firmly fixed on the carpet. “You called for me, sir?” he mumbled, when Yuuri did not immediately speak.

“Take a seat, Minami,” Yuuri said, his voice kind but stern. Minami sank into a chair, and Yuuri went on, “Now, I think you’d best explain yourself.”

The boy collapsed like his strings had been cut, elbows dropping onto his knees and his face falling into his hands. “I’m so, so sorry, sir,” he said, sounding almost frantic. “I have no excuse, it was utterly wrong of me, I’m  _ so, so sorry, _ please forgive me.”

Yuuri took a deep breath. “I see you understand the seriousness of what you’ve done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You exposed me to scandal, Minami,” Yuuri said, hating to press him but knowing that he needed to be firm. “Anything could have happened in that carriage, and anyone could have seen Lord Nikiforov enter or exit. Even now there could be rumors starting throughout the city that could ruin me.” Minami was crying, Yuuri could see through his fingers, his face mottling in shades of red. “I do not mean to be harsh,” Yuuri said gently, “but I must know what drove you to do it.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Minami said again. “I’m  _ sorry, _ there’s no excuse.”

“I’m not asking for an excuse. I’m asking for your reasoning.” Minami continued to sniffle, and Yuuri sighed, standing and walking to the cupboard where he kept a pitcher of water. He poured a glass and passed it to Minami along with his own handkerchief. “Take as long as you need to collect yourself, Minami, but I do need an answer.”

Minami took the glass and cloth, looking pitifully grateful. He drank deep and tentatively dabbed at his face, slowly fighting his breathing under control. Once he had stopped actively crying, he offered the handkerchief back to Yuuri. “Keep it,” Yuuri said. “You need it more than I do, and I have others.”

“Thank you, sir,” Minami breathed, clearly shocked at his own luck. He drained the glass and turned it in his hands, staring down at it as though that were easier than looking at Yuuri’s face. “As for my reasoning,” he said, voice a little steadier than it had been, “I suppose I was thinking about, well...”

“About?” Yuuri prompted.

“About your face, when you took your leave of the Duke in the country,” Minami said in a breathless rush. “You looked  _ happy _ with him, and sad to be leaving him. And I thought, well, I thought seeing him might make you happy again.”

He paused, but Yuuri kept quiet, and eventually he forged on again. “You looked so unhappy when we got back to the city, and I just... Everyone here loves you, it’s not just me. You’re the best master any of us could have wished for. We all just want you to be happy.”

Yuuri had to discreetly brush a tear from the corner of his eye; thankfully, Minami was still contemplating the empty glass rather than his face. “Thank you, Minami.” That drove Minami to look at him, brow wrinkled in confusion. “That’s very kind of you to say. I can see now that your motives were pure.”

“I swear I never meant for anything bad to happen,” Minami said earnestly. “I was  _ careful _ getting him into the carriage, and I’d never have set him down anywhere anyone could have seen.”

“I trust you,” Yuuri said, making Minami flush. “I know that you would never knowingly do anything to hurt me.”

“Never, sir.”

Yuuri let himself smile a little. “That’s all, Minami. You may go back to work.”

Minami’s forehead creased. “Then... Then I’m not sacked?”

With a chuckle, Yuuri shook his head. “Not remotely. I have the best driver in the city; I’m not about to let him go over a thing like this.”

“Thank you, sir,” Minami said, looking frighteningly like he was about to drop to his knees in gratitude. Yuuri stood to prevent that from happening, and Minami unfolded himself from his chair too. “Thank you, sir, and I swear nothing like it will ever happen again.”

“Well, we shall see what the future brings,” Yuuri said. Minami just looked at him, confused again, and Yuuri grinned. “That’s all, Minami.”

Minami bowed and left the room, a definite skip in his step that had not been there previously. Yuuri laughed to himself and pulled a book from the shelf to while away the morning.

———

The servants at Viktor’s estate knew Chris on sight and showed him into Viktor’s library without asking for a card to take up. Chris amused himself by swapping books around on the shelves and turning some upside down until the door opened to admit the man himself, hastily tugging the sleeves of his jacket down. “Morning, Chris,” he said. “What’s got you up and about so early?”

“I wanted you to know,” Chris said, abandoning formality as he so often did with Viktor and dropping into a chair. Viktor followed suit, looking curious. “I’ve found a place to take Yuuri.” Viktor’s face clouded over and he sat back. “You’d find out anyway,” Chris went on, “so I wanted to be the one to tell you. You know that charming little inn on the edge of Petersburg?” Viktor nodded, still looking stormy. “I’ve made arrangements with the man there. He’s promised the utmost discretion for our week together.”

“When do you go?” Viktor asked, a layer of steel hidden in his voice.

“We meet there in three days,” Chris said. “I’ve word that his driver’s a reliable sort and won’t give us away, and I can move unseen when I want to, as you well know.” Viktor nodded. “I’ve bought out the whole inn for the week, so there won’t be any other guests to disturb us.”

“Clever.”

“I rather thought so. No expenses spared for our fair Yuuri.”

“No.” Viktor looked deeply troubled, Chris was pleased to note. “Three days, you said?”

“As soon as night falls,” Chris confirmed. “For secrecy.”

Viktor took a deep breath and clapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, I wish you joy, my friend. Yuuri is a delightful companion, as you will discover.”

“No doubt.”

Chris took his leave not long after that, not wanting to intrude any further upon Viktor’s thoughts. He had given the man three days to stew, and if his plan hadn’t worked by the stroke of dusk after that, Chris would purchase the largest hat he could find and eat it, feather and all.

He returned home to his uncle’s card, and met him joyfully. “Uncle,” he said warmly, clapping the man in an embrace. “Tell me you’re staying for lunch.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Josef said, beaming at him. “I’ve barely seen you of late, so I figured I’d better come round and make sure you were still on your feet. It used to be that you were at my door day and night.”

“Well,” Chris said, his stomach falling although his smile didn’t. “Matters change, Uncle.”

“Ah,” Josef said, understanding dawning on his face. “Mat troubles.”

“He won’t have me, Uncle,” Chris said heavily, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I offered myself and he turned me down flat.” A treacherous voice in the back of Chris’ head whispered that Mat, although he had said many things that night, had never actually said  _ no. _ Chris stamped it out. “He’s asked for space, and I’m trying to give it to him.”

Josef sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s hard, lad,” he said, “and make no mistake. I never thought he’d outright refuse you if you offered. But if the boy’s made up his mind, then there’s no changing it; you know that as well as I do.”

“He’s as stubborn as a mule when he wants to be,” Chris agreed. “It’s part of what I like about him.”

“Oh, lad,” Josef said sadly. “Come on, let’s go to lunch. A good meal will sort you out.”

The meal  _ was  _ good, and did do a great deal to restore Chris’ spirits to where they had been upon leaving Viktor’s estate. Josef was good company; when he put his mind to it, he could be as ribald as Chris himself, and more than once Chris had to flick away tears of laughter.

Josef stayed well into the evening, distracting Chris wonderfully, and when he left he hugged him warmly and said, “You may have given up hope, lad, but I haven’t. I’ll see you happy, one way or another. If it’s not Mat, it’ll be someone else.”

“I hope you’re right, Uncle,” Chris said, melting into his embrace. “For all I go on, I do hope there’s someone out there for me.”

“There is.” Josef pulled back and patted Chris’ face. “If nothing else, you can marry Duke Nikiforov, and scandalize everyone the more for being partnered.”

Chris laughed. “The idea has occurred to us, on our more drunken interludes. But it seems unlikely, these days.”

“Oh?” Curiosity spread itself across Josef’s brow, and Chris chuckled again and shook his head.

“You’ll get no more from me on that subject, although I will say that if there’s no news in a week’s time, then I’m no judge of character. But off you get, Uncle, or the driver will never find his way home.”

“Oh, fine, throw an old man out,” Josef said mildly, winking when Chris laughed again.

———

To say Mathieu was  _ surprised _ when the maid handed him his visitor’s card would be the understatement of the century. “Mr. Katsuki?” he said aloud, gaping at it. “Katsuki  _ Yuuri? _ What on earth does he want with me?”

“He didn’t say, sir,” the maid said, “only said it was urgent he speak to you, if you had the time.”

“Of course I have the time,” Mat said, “for  _ Katsuki Yuuri. _ Let me just find my jacket and I’ll be right along.”

As he darted upstairs for the wayward article of clothing, Mathieu’s mind was racing. He had met Mr. Katsuki a handful of times, but the man had never shown him the slightest scrap of interest. Mathieu had not taken it personally; it was well known that Mr. Katsuki barely had time for anyone, save his close confidante Mr. Chulanont, and occasionally Miss Crispino. Mathieu had very little to do with that circle, and thus their paths had never crossed above once or twice.

What the devil could the man want with him  _ now? _

Jacket obtained, Mathieu gave himself a quick straightening in the hallway mirror before taking a deep breath and going into the drawing room. “Mr. Katsuki,” he said warmly, walking forward to take the man’s hand. “What a delightful surprise.”

“Mr. Bieri,” Mr. Katsuki said, shaking his hand with a surprising firmness. “I do hope you can forgive my dropping in like this.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Mathieu said. “Please, take a seat.” Mr. Katsuki did so, and Mathieu sank into his own chair. “I confess myself surprised, but pleased to receive you.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Katsuki said, fiddling with his sleeve. Was he anxious about something? “I was nervous to drop in on you on such little acquaintance, and I am glad to find you so welcoming.”

Carefully, Mathieu said, “If you were nervous, does that mean there is a particular reason for your visit? As I have said, I am quite pleased to receive you, but I must say I am rather curious as to why you have come.”

Mr. Katsuki flicked his eyes towards the door, which was firmly closed, and leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “I should reveal to you that I was bidden to come, by one whom I call a friend, although I suspect you do not.”

Understanding twisted in Mathieu’s stomach. “Christophe asked you to call.”

“Not to plead his case,” Mr. Katsuki said quickly, perhaps reading Mathieu’s suspicions on his face. “He asked me to speak to you because he thought I might be able to offer you some advice on a momentous decision you are about to make. I am not here to beg you to accept Lord Giacometti, but to see if I can be of some aid to you.”

Mathieu bit down on a frown. “On what matter might you offer me advice?”

Mr. Katsuki sighed, seemingly resolving himself, and said, “You know, I presume, that I was briefly married some years ago?”

Mathieu nodded. “I know very little of the details, but yes, I had heard.”

“I hope it will not shock you to hear that my marriage was not a... Not a particularly happy example of the genre,” Mr. Katsuki said. Mathieu blinked in surprise; was the man  _ confiding _ in him? “It was not a love match, but I liked my husband, well enough to accept his hand when he offered it. I thought I knew what I could expect, upon marrying him. Unfortunately, I soon learned I was wrong.”

“Mr. Katsuki, I—”

“I do not tell you this for sympathy, Mr. Bieri,” Mr. Katsuki said, an edge to his voice. “I have not come here to confide in you, or cry on your shoulder. I have come to offer warning.”

“What warning is that?” Mathieu asked quietly, his throat dry.

“That when you marry for liking instead of loving, you had better be absolutely sure you know every inch of your intended’s character  _ before  _ you wed,” Mr. Katsuki said frankly. “I did not, and I suffered for it. Lord Giacometti fears, entirely separately from his own suit, that you may be about to commit the same mistake I did.”

“I...” Mathieu cast about for something to say. “Mr. Katsuki, I believe I need a moment to collect my thoughts.”

“Of course,” the man said. “Take all the time you need. I can also leave, if you would rather I did so.”

“No,” Mathieu said quickly. “Please stay. I just require a moment.”

Mr. Katsuki nodded and sat quietly. Mathieu sank back in his chair, mind whirling for the second time that morning. Was he really to believe that Christophe had asked Mr. Katsuki, a man only a few degrees removed from a stranger, to speak to him, solely out of concern for Mathieu’s well-being? It did not track with what Mathieu knew of the man—and yet, when Mathieu had asked him to go, he had gone, and had made no attempt to speak to him since then. He had even avoided his uncle’s house, presumably to give Mathieu the space he had asked for. Perhaps he  _ had _ changed, a little. Mathieu couldn’t imagine a man as stately as Katsuki Yuuri considering Christophe a true friend if he was still the weakling he had shown himself to be last year.

“Mr. Katsuki,” he started gently, “may I inquire as to how you are acquainted with the Earl?”

To his surprise, the man blushed. “May I trust to your discretion, Mr. Bieri?”

“Of course.”

“I...” Mr Katsuki laughed a little, looking surprised. “I have done so many shocking things this month; you would think merely speaking of them would not rank highly. I became acquainted with Lord Giacometti when I... Well, when I volunteered myself to assist with a certain wager he has recently placed.”

Mathieu reared back, utterly floored.  _ “What?” _

“I see you are taken aback,” Mr. Katsuki said wryly, “and well might you be. I know I do not seem the type.”

“Hardly,” Mathieu breathed on a chuckle, surprised into honesty.

“In the end, I did not... Well, Lord Giacometti withdrew, out of love for you,” Mr. Katsuki said, once again sending Mathieu’s jaw dropping. “But we met, and he felt comfortable enough in our acquaintance to secretly request my help in this matter. In return, he is aiding me with a matter of my own.”

“I see.” Out of love for  _ Mathieu, _ Chris had turned down a night with  _ Katsuki Yuuri? _ The coldest, most sought-after beauty in the  _ ton? _ It beggared belief, and yet Mr. Katsuki seemed entirely honest. “Mr. Katsuki, I confess I am, well,  _ boggled. _ I could never have dreamed up anything you have said today, in my most fevered imaginings.”

“I am sure that is true.”

Mathieu bit his lip and went on, “But I must express my gratitude to you. I can see no other motivation for your coming here today, if it was truly not to beg on Christophe’s behalf, than an honest concern for my well-being. We are nearly strangers, and such kindness speaks volumes about the strength of your character.”

“It is nothing,” Mr. Katsuki said determinedly, although he flushed red again. “It has taken me many years and a great deal of bravery to start undoing the damage which my marriage did to me. If I can help someone avoid the same fate, I must consider it time well spent.”

“All the same,” Mathieu said fervently. “Thank you, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Please,” the man said, again twisting a loose thread from his sleeve around his finger. “With everything I have shared today, I believe you can call me Yuuri.”

“Yuuri, then,” Mathieu said, warming through. “I cannot make you an answer as to what I will do. I must think. But I promise you I will think carefully, and I will not act rashly, whatever I decide to do. Nor out of spite,” he added, thinking of his last parting from Christophe.

“I am glad to hear it,” Yuuri said. “That is the most I could have hoped for from our conversation. And, if I may be so bold—if you have any questions at all on the topic of marriage, or any related subjects, I hope you will not hesitate to call on me, Mr. Bieri, and I will answer as best I am able.”

“Please,” Mathieu echoed, his mouth twisting in a wry grin. “I think you’d best call me Mat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A song for Chris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsdGgRL1xHc).
> 
> [A song for Yuuri](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-Dur3uXXCQ).


	10. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minami’s face was a picture of confusion when he handed Yuuri out of the carriage, and Yuuri had to laugh. “Don’t worry, Minami,” he murmured. “I haven’t forgotten the Duke.”
> 
> “It’s not my place to judge,” Minami said, “and I’m not, sir.”
> 
> “Good.” Yuuri patted him on the arm and made his way inside the inn as he drove the carriage around back.

Minami’s face was a picture of confusion when he handed Yuuri out of the carriage, and Yuuri had to laugh. “Don’t worry, Minami,” he murmured. “I haven’t forgotten the Duke.”

“It’s not my place to judge,” Minami said, “and I’m not, sir.”

“Good.” Yuuri patted him on the arm and made his way inside the inn as he drove the carriage around back.

The innkeeper met him at the front door as Yuuri was taking his coat off. “Ah, welcome, welcome,” he said, smiling and coming forward. “I am Morooka, and I am honored by your patronage.”

Yuuri shook his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”

“It is nothing,” Morooka said, waving a hand expansively. “Shall I show you to your rooms, sir, or would you like something to eat first?”

Yuuri’s stomach grumbled. It _had_ been a long ride. “Something to eat sounds divine.”

Morooka set him up with a hearty slice of game pie and a tankard of ale that was bigger than any Yuuri had ever seen before. Yuuri tucked in, looking around the room as he ate. The inn was more homey than grand, signs of wear in the corners, but it was all scrupulously clean and charming. And the food was _delicious._

Yuuri heard a commotion at the door as he was finishing up, and then Christophe entered the dining room, lighting up when he saw Yuuri. “You made it,” he said, wrapping Yuuri in an embrace when Yuuri held out his hand to shake. Startled but pleased, Yuuri hugged back. “Isn’t this place wonderful?” Chris said, settling into a chair at Yuuri’s side. “Viktor and I discovered it when we were silly young things. Does a fine roast at dinner.”

“So I have been discovering,” Yuuri said. “Are you not still silly young things?”

Chris laughed as Morooka set a plate and tankard down in front of him. “I suppose we are. Although I believe we are both much more mature than we were the last time we were here.”

“Tell me of the last time you were here?” Yuuri asked, taking a sip of beer.

“We were hunting rabbits,” Chris began, and soon Yuuri was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

“Thank you for waiting with me while I ate,” Chris said, once the food was done and the plates were cleared. “Dining is always more agreeable with a companion.”

“I did not always think so,” Yuuri said. “But in recent weeks, I have come to agree with you. Perhaps it depends on the companion.”

“Perhaps it does,” Chris agreed. “Come, shall we see your rooms?”

Morooka led them upstairs and to the first door on the right, which revealed an expansive sitting room. “The bedroom is just through that door,” he said, pointing. “Here are your keys. The bell is just there; please do not hesitate to ring if you need anything, whatever the hour.”

Chris clapped him on the shoulder and passed the keys to Yuuri, and Morooka took his leave. “Viktor should be here soon,” Chris said, padding over to an overstuffed armchair and sinking into it. Yuuri perched on the sofa and found it quite comfortable. “How shall we pass our time until then?”

There was a look in his eyes that Yuuri could read all too well. “Mr. Bieri received me kindly,” he said, putting Chris out of his misery, and the man gave a weary smile and gestured for Yuuri to go on. “He did not make any decisions while I was there, but he was at least not offended by my coming, and he listened to my advice with good care.” Yuuri smiled. “He asked me to call him Mat.”

“Mat?” Chris asked sharply. “Not Mathieu?” Yuuri shook his head. “He has scorned that nickname ever since I broke his heart,” Chris said wonderingly. “He must have liked you indeed, to resort to it again.”

“Perhaps it is a sign of some hope for you,” Yuuri said gently.

Chris shook his head. “I will know hope if I hear it from his lips, and not before,” he said, sad and solemn. “I have erred too greatly to grasp at straws.”

“Then I shall grasp at them for you,” Yuuri said firmly. Chris quirked a smile at him. “As you have grasped at my straws for me. You are sure that Vik—that the Duke will come?”

“Absolutely certain,” Chris declared. “I know him well, and he is shockingly terrible at hiding his feelings when his heart is involved, as it turns out. I gave him three days to stew over our meeting, and that should be plenty of time. Night has fully fallen; if he is not here within the hour, then I am not sure I ever knew him at all.”

“I must thank you again for thinking up this subterfuge against your friend,” Yuuri said wryly. “Nothing may yet come of it—I am still not sure _I_ wish to marry again, let alone sure of the Duke’s feelings on the subject—but it would be nice to hear it from his own lips, I think.”

“I wish that for you,” Chris said. “One of us might get their heart’s desire from this damned wager of ours. Perhaps it is fitting that it be a third party.”

“Perhaps,” Yuuri said, smiling at him. “While we wait, I took the liberty of bringing a deck of cards.”

“Excellent.” Chris rubbed his hands together. “Let us fetch them, and see if we cannot make things interesting.”

———

~~_Mat,_ ~~

~~_Dearest Mat,_ ~~

~~_My love,_ ~~

~~_Mathieu,_ ~~

~~_Beloved,_ ~~

_Mat,_

_I am in something of a panic, as no doubt you have surmised. I find I have no words to begin to explain my actions, let alone excuse them, and yet I will find some, for I cannot leave things as they are. My dearest Mat, I am so terribly, terribly sorry for what I have done. Let us begin there._

_Georgi Popovich is nothing to me. The world is nothing to me, compared to you, but Popovich especially. It was a dreadful lack of judgement on my part, borne of a bone-deep fear. I know this does not excuse me; I seek no excuse, only to explain myself that you may understand me. My actions were not caused by a lack of regard for you; rather, by an_ _excessive_ _regard for you, which frightened me into hasty action._

_I am not a strong man. I have many virtues but moral strength has never been among them. No doubt you know this, as you know my reputation. But for you I will try, because you deserve a person of strength, of virtue, as your partner, and so I must become that person, because_ ~~_the thought of you with anyone else fills me with fear_ ~~ _it is who I must become to be worthy of you._

_I love you. I love you as I never thought to love anyone, as I did not know love could_ _be_ _. You are everything to me. I know I am not worthy of you, but I will offer myself to you nonetheless, with the solemn promise that I will become the man you deserve me to be. Accept me, if you wish; forgive me, if you can find it within yourself; know, at the least, that I will carry the shame of my mistake with me for the rest of my life. I will never forget hurting you._

_I love you. Write back to me._

_Yours ever,_

_Chris_

Mat set the letter down and fumbled for his handkerchief, catching the tears before they could fall on the page and blot the words written there.

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, _damn him,_ and damn Mat for leaving his words locked up tight for so many months, when he could have had Chris for the asking.

Perhaps it was for the best, he reflected, once his sobs had subsided somewhat. He had been in such a fury after the initial event; if he had read this letter, he might have torn it to shreds on the spot. Perhaps it was only now, after so much time had passed, that he could view them for what they were: an apology, the best Christophe was capable of, and the desperate flailings of a man so in love it scared him.

Chris loved him. Mat could see it now, and it set the part of his heart that was still a boy’s to dancing. _Chris loved him,_ enough to change his lifestyle; enough to spread his heart on paper in frantic ink; enough to send his friend to make sure Mat did not make a terrible mistake, when he could not come himself.

But was it enough? Did Chris’ love still frighten him? Could Mat trust, where he had been so viciously wounded for trusting before? That, Mat did not know. _Could_ not know, he rather suspected; it was the sort of thing that had to be taken on faith, if the novels he loved were any indication.

A gentle knock at his door interrupted his reverie. “Lad?” Josef’s voice called. “May I come in?”

Mat hastily wiped at his face and hid the letter under a book on his desk. “Come in,” he said, and the door opened to admit his guardian. “I did not know you were home,” Mat said, praying his voice stayed steady.

“I got in about an hour ago,” Josef said, coming forward to sit on the end of Mat’s bed, “and then I had a caller.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Cao Bin.” Mat’s heart sank as Josef studied his face. “He came to ask me for my permission to propose to you.”

“Oh,” Mat said hollowly. “And what did you say?”

“That you are a man grown, and do not require my permission to marry,” Josef said. “I told him to take your lead, and accept your answer without consulting me.”

“Thank you,” Mat said. “That was kind of you.”

Josef sighed. “Lad, it was hard to be that diplomatic, and I regret it now that I see your reaction to the news. Should I have told him no outright?”

Coming back to himself somewhat at Josef’s words, Mat shook his head. “No, you were right. I am grown, and while your opinion matters much to me, it is ultimately my decision. I am glad to hear you agree.”

“I would never take your choice from you.”

“I know,” Mat said, and meant it.

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Josef said, “What will you say? When he asks, I mean.”

Mat had to fight the childish but strong urge to pull his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. “Josef, I don’t think I can do it.”

“That is _fine,”_ Josef said immediately. “Mat, lad, if that’s your decision then it’s the right one. As long as you mean it.”

“Cao Bin is a fine man,” Mat said, testing the words as he spoke, “and I believe he will make someone a fine husband. But I do not know him. And I cannot marry where I do not know, and know well.”

“Fine words,” Josef said quietly. “And wise ones, if you will take an old man’s advice.”

Mat smiled. “I always value your advice.”

Josef coughed. “Forgive me my prying, but... Well, I’m sure you know where my wishes lie.”

“I do,” Mat allowed. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know, Josef. I wish I had an answer for you, truly I do, because it would mean the agony of _deciding_ was over, one way or the other. But I need to _think.”_

“Then think,” Josef said simply. “Take all the time you need, lad. It isn’t a decision you can reverse, so it’s best to be thorough.”

“Is that why you never married?” Mat asked. “Because you couldn’t be sure?”

“There was no one I was ever certain of,” Josef said. “There were a few people, but I could never quiet my doubts enough to commit my heart.”

“Do you regret it? Never marrying?”

Josef shook his head. “No. I chose to listen to my doubts, and that was the right decision for me. But just because I don’t regret my life, it doesn’t mean you should follow in my footsteps. A leap of faith is just what the doctor ordered sometimes.”

Mat groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “What a mess,” he huffed. “Can’t someone else decide for me?”

“No, lad,” Josef said, standing and coming over to clap Mat on the shoulder. “It’s up to you.” Mat groaned again and Josef laughed. “Dinner should be ready in half an hour. If you’d rather not come down, I can have a tray sent up.”

“No, I’ll be there,” Mat said. Josef nodded and left, and Mat fished the letter out and started to read again.

———

Viktor dug his heels into Makkachin and, like the true champion she was, she picked up another burst of speed. Viktor had waited too long, and the sun had already set; if he was going to make it in time, he needed every ounce of power she could give him.

The path curved in front of him, and as he rounded it he could see the inn before him, lit by flickering street lamps. “Come on, girl,” he said, patting his horse’s neck, and she raced towards it, whinnying wildly when he pulled her to a stop outside the front doors. An attendant came flying out and Viktor tossed her the reins, taking the steps two at a time.

Morooka met him as soon as Viktor burst through the door. “Ah, sir, you’re late—”

“Where are they?” Viktor growled. “Lord Giacometti and the beauty with him?

“In the best suite, sir, as Lord Giacometti requested.”

“Damn you!” Viktor shouted. “You promised them discretion.”

“But he told me to expect you!” Morooka protested incomprehensibly, but Viktor was already halfway up the stairs.

Viktor came to a skidding halt outside the door and, not pausing to catch his breath, he flung it open. Visions danced in front of his eyes, of Christophe and Yuuri locked in the most obscene of embraces, Viktor having to pull his oldest friend off the man he—

But the scene he was met with was quite different. Yuuri blinked at him from the table, a hand of cards in front of his face. “There you are,” Chris said mildly from where he was seated across from Yuuri, in his shirtsleeves but otherwise fully dressed. “Took you long enough, I must say. Yuuri here was about to take my last penny.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Yuuri said innocently, and Chris cackled.

“I—I don’t...” Viktor stammered, looking between them. Chris smirked at him and stood up, moving to fetch his jacket from where it was thrown over the back of the sofa and shrug it on.

“We tricked you,” he explained, coming forward to clap Viktor on the shoulder. “And you fell for it, like a good man. I didn’t spring for the full week, but the next three days are on me, my friend. Enjoy yourself.” With that he was gone; Viktor could hear him chortling to himself all the way down the stairs.

Yuuri laid his cards on the table and stood up, shutting the door behind Viktor and coming to stand in front of him. “I hope you aren’t angry,” he said.

“I’m too confused to be angry,” Viktor said honestly. “What on _earth_ is going on?”

Yuuri gave him a shy smile. “Christophe thinks you love me,” he said in his musical, clear voice, and something in Viktor’s chest tightened. “He thought, if you were made to believe that we were fulfilling our end of the wager, you wouldn’t be able to stand it, and would have to burst in and declare yourself.”

“And you... You would want that?”

Yuuri nodded. “I know it might not change our situation, but... When presented with the possibility of hearing a declaration from your own lips, I found I could not resist.”

“I love you,” Viktor said, utterly helpless in the face of Yuuri’s honesty, and Yuuri started to beam. “I love you, but I don’t know why I came. You said you wouldn’t be my affair.”

“I know what I said.” Yuuri reached forward and took his hands. “And I’m still not sure I can manage just being your lover. But I’m not sure I can give you up either.” His eyes were deep and clear as Viktor fell into them. “So let’s take these three days we’ve been given, and we’ll sort the rest out afterwards, alright?”

“Alright,” Viktor breathed, and Yuuri tipped up and kissed him.

It had been a mere five days since Viktor had last tasted Yuuri, and yet his head swam like a boy’s at the first touch of their lips. He moaned low in his throat and grabbed at Yuuri, whose nimble hands were undoing the buttons of his shirt between them.

“I want you,” Yuuri murmured as he kissed Viktor again and again, stripping the jacket and shirt from his shoulders. “I want you the way you had me. Will you take me, Viktor?”

“Anything,” Viktor moaned, Yuuri’s kisses starting to trail down his neck, “anything, anything you want, my love.”

Yuuri had him bare to the waist in moments and bent to lick and suck at his nipple. Viktor tangled a hand into his thick hair and looked down in wonder. “I didn’t bring any supplies,” he realized. “Or clothing. I didn’t bring anything, I just...”

“Just jumped on your horse and came after me,” Yuuri said, straightening to kiss him again. “Don’t worry, my love,” he murmured against Viktor’s lips. “I did. And you won’t need many clothes for the things I have planned for you.”

“Bedroom,” Viktor rasped. _“Now.”_

They fumbled into the bedroom, separating only long enough to finish shedding clothing and for Yuuri to retrieve a small jar from his bag before tumbling onto the bed. “Open me,” Yuuri moaned as Viktor kissed a trail from his clavicle to his pelvis, “open me, Viktor, hurry, I need you.”

Viktor had opened many lovers, seen many people of various genders spread out on his fingers, but he had never loved them, and it was amazing how much of a difference that made. Every one of Yuuri’s gasps was a treasure; the tight grasping heat of Yuuri’s innermost chambers made Viktor dizzy with need; when he kissed Yuuri deeply and sank inside him, it was like coming home after a long day at the races. “Ohhhhhh,” Yuuri sighed as Viktor’s hips came to rest against his. “Oh, Viktor, _yes.”_

Viktor started to move, quick abortive thrusts at first and then longer and smoother as he began to trust himself not to spend immediately. Yuuri cried out, his back arching to press his chest against Viktor’s, and Viktor lowered his head to fasten his mouth wherever it could find purchase on Yuuri’s hot skin. Yuuri began to meet him thrust for thrust, his voice breaking as they set a punishing rhythm.

Yuuri’s hand left Viktor’s back to brace against the headboard as Viktor pounded into him, sweat dripping down both their faces as they rutted against each other. “Yes, Viktor, _yes,”_ Yuuri chanted, his free hand leaving raking trails down Viktor’s back and clutching at the swell of his rear as though to drive him in deeper.

Viktor came all at once, slamming into Yuuri and stilling, muffling his cries into Yuuri’s chest as he pulsed. Yuuri writhed beneath him, on the edge but not quite over it, and Viktor gathered all his strength to make his body respond to him. Yuuri cried out when Viktor slipped free of him, and then again as Viktor pushed three fingers into where his cock had been and took Yuuri into his mouth. Viktor felt fingers pull at his hair as he worked Yuuri the best he knew how, his own fingers pressing inside him in search of his prostate, and it was only a few heartbeats after he found it, heartbeats that he felt pulsing around the digits deep inside Yuuri, that his lover screamed and came down his throat.

“Say it again,” Yuuri murmured as Viktor crawled his way up his body to collapse across him, head tucked into Yuuri’s neck. “Say it again, Viktor, I want to hear it again.”

“I love you,” Viktor panted. “I love you, I love you, I have never loved and will never love anyone but you, my darling, my _Yuuri._ I love you.” Yuuri’s arms wrapped tightly around him, and they lay there together, sweat cooling between their bodies as they breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, [a song for Viktor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_WYwfrMFko&ab_channel=REOSpeedwagon-Topic).


	11. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since he’d done it, Chris deeply regretted goading Viktor into locking himself into a room with Yuuri for three days and rendering him unreachable. He could have desperately used a friend at this particular moment.
> 
> Instead, he spent those three days walking. He wandered up and down the city, mapping its familiar paths and lanes and avenues, and at night he paced around his study, looping the edges in unending chains until his legs dropped out from under him and he could finally catch an hour of fitful sleep.
> 
> Mat had rejected Cao Bin.

For the first time since he’d done it, Chris deeply regretted goading Viktor into locking himself into a room with Yuuri for three days and rendering him unreachable. He could have desperately used a friend at this particular moment.

Instead, he spent those three days walking. He wandered up and down the city, mapping its familiar paths and lanes and avenues, and at night he paced around his study, looping the edges in unending chains until his legs dropped out from under him and he could finally catch an hour of fitful sleep.

Mat had rejected Cao Bin.

Josef had given him the news as soon as Chris had returned from Morooka’s inn, in a hushed whisper in his foyer before rushing home to be with Mat. Chris had torn apart the society pages but could find nothing about it, and he would not stoop so low as to resort to gossip. Instead he walked, and paced, and drank, his mind mimicking his feet and moving in sluggish, repetitive paths until he wanted to tear his hair out for boredom and hope.

Viktor would have known what to do. Viktor would have been able to distract him from this wretched, dragging waiting period. But Viktor was busy, and Josef was rightfully with Mat, and Chris suddenly realized how few people in the world he could truly call  _ close friends. _

The third night was inching towards its zenith, Chris wearing a trail in the carpet of his study, when there came a strange tapping at his window. He disregarded it as the wind rapping a branch against the glass, but it came again, louder this time. And then he heard a muffled, “Christophe, open this window before I fall down.”

Chris’ head snapped up, and once he could make sense of what he saw he raced to the window and hauled it open. Mat tumbled through, pushing himself to his feet and saying, “Thank you. I thought I’d be able to get open from the outside—after all, you managed it just fine—but I’m afraid it defeated me.”

Chris shut the window again and sagged against it, gaping at the man he loved standing in his study. “What are you  _ doing _ here?” he hissed as soon as he was capable of speech. “What if someone had seen you?”

“I  _ was _ careful,” Mat said. “No one saw me, and I knew you were here and could let me in right away. I’ve been following you all day, waiting for you to get somewhere private where we could speak.”

_ “What?” _

“I have something very important to say to you, Christophe,” Mat said sternly, fixing Chris in place with a look. “Be quiet and wait until I’m finished.” At a loss, Chris could only nod. “What I have to say to you is this: Yes.”

Chris waited, but Mat did not elaborate. “Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll have you. I’ll marry you, and happily.” Chris took a helpless step forward. “If.”

Chris froze. “If what?”

Mat seemed to be gathering his courage, and then he lifted his chin and said, “If you make love to me. Tonight.”

Chris’ breath caught in his throat and he shook his head. “We can wait until we’re married. I can  _ wait, _ Mat.”

“I can’t,” Mat said baldly. “Before I marry you, I need to know you fully, inside and out. I already know you most of the way, but not in  _ this _ way. So this is my condition. Make love to me, and then I’ll have you.”

It was everything Chris had ever dreamed of, and he couldn’t let himself believe it. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am perfectly serious,” Mat said. “Take me to bed, Christophe, and I’m yours.”

“And if I say no?” Chris asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Then I’ll leave the way I came, and we won’t marry.” Mat shrugged. “Well, we probably will in a year or so; to be honest, I’m rather fixed on you. But you could marry me tomorrow.”

Chris took a step forward, and then another, and then another. “And this is what you want?” he asked, needing to be sure. “You’re absolutely certain that this is the order in which you want to do things?”

“Entirely.” Up close, Mat was sweating, and his eyes kept flickering between Chris’ eyes and his mouth. “I want you, Chris,” he whispered. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Then come here.” Chris held out his hand, and Mat took it and closed the rest of the distance between them. Chris lifted his hands to gently place them on either side of Mat’s head, and Mat closed his eyes and tilted his face ever-so-slightly forward, and Chris kissed him.

Mat’s breath hitched as their mouths met, and then he was surging forward, plastering himself to Chris with an enthusiasm that almost knocked them both down. Chris gathered him in his arms and kissed him deeper, matching Mat’s eagerness easily, and he felt a rush of ecstatic victory when Mat whimpered slightly as the kiss ended. “Still sure?” Chris murmured against his lips. Mat answered by kissing him again, and Chris laughed into his mouth. “Then, beloved, the bedroom is this way.”

———

Mat had never been inside Chris’ bedroom before, and he looked around as Chris shut the door behind them. “It seems such a simple room, to be the site of so many assignations,” he said, and it was true; the walls were sparsely decorated, the bedding plain.

“I didn’t bring them here,” Chris said. When Mat turned to look at him, he had taken his jacket off and was in just his shirtsleeves. “I don’t spend much time here beyond sleeping,” he went on, taking Mat’s hand and drawing him further into the room. “Once we’re married, you can decorate to your liking, as I’m sure we’ll be here often.”

Mat shivered, and Chris kissed him again. There was a heat to his kisses now that hadn’t been there in the study, Mat realized; a new urgency added with their repair to the bedroom. His skin prickled with anticipation. “May I remove your jacket?” Chris whispered into his ear.

Mat nodded. “Remove everything, and yours too.” Chris grinned, that quicksilver melting grin that Mat loved so much, and circled him to stand behind him and slowly guide the jacket off his shoulders. Once it was gone, he tilted Mat’s head forward and sucked a kiss just behind his ear. “Oh,” Mat breathed, and Chris took it as permission to continue leaving kisses down his neck as his fingers undid Mat’s collar and went to work on the buttons of his shirt. “You don’t have to seduce me,” Mat managed through the haze of desire rushing through him. “I’m a sure thing.”

Chris hummed against the skin of his throat. “I want to.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Chris’ hand stole under his newly-opened shirt to caress his chest. His thumb brushed a nipple and Mat jumped at the jolt of sensation. “Come back around here,” he ordered breathlessly, and Chris did so, trailing his fingers across Mat’s hip as he moved. Once Chris was in front of him, Mat took hold of his shirt and tore it asunder, buttons flying everywhere as the fabric ripped under his hands, baring a great expanse of skin and a dusting of fine blond hair that Mat wanted to run his fingers through.

“I liked that shirt,” Chris said, no rancor in his voice as he shrugged the remains off.

“You like me more.”

“True,” and then they were kissing again, all the better for the lost clothes. The skin of Chris’ back was warm under Mat’s hands, and the hair on his chest was as soft as it looked, and Chris moaned deliciously into Mat’s mouth when his explorations brushed a nipple. Mat tangled one hand into the hair on Chris’ head and lost himself in the taste of the man’s tongue, so that he barely noticed the fingers on his flies until their first slide against his hardening cock made him groan.

“Off, off,” Mat demanded, breaking his mouth free, and Chris laughed and obeyed, dropping to his knees to work Mat’s trousers down past his ankles and then standing to remove his own.

The urge to cover himself flared sharply, only to die a withering death under the open wonderment on Chris’ face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, reaching out and running his fingers in a burning path from Mat’s chest to his pelvis.

“I want all your skill,” Mat said, taking hold of Chris’ face and turning it back up to meet his eyes. “Everything you’ve learned from everyone you’ve ever loved, do you understand? I want it all for myself.”

“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Chris said, voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Mat rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Christophe.”

Chris kissed him again, a surging wave of heat, and then Mat found himself bodily picked up and deposited on the edge of the bed. “Oof,” he gasped as Chris set him down, only to find his breath stolen again by Chris’ mouth on his.

“Stay there,” Chris said, biting at his lower lip, and dropped to his knees between Mat’s spread legs. He left hot, wet kisses all over Mat’s chest, working his way down and down until his nose touched Mat’s pubic hair and he could get his tongue under Mat’s cock and  _ lick _ from base to tip.

Mat swore and clutched at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other weaving into his hair, and Chris did it again and then wrapped his mouth around the tip and sucked. “Oh God,  _ Chris,” _ Mat moaned. Chris took him in deeper, cheeks hollowing, and Mat dug his nails into Chris’ back and held on for dear life.

It wasn’t long before Mat felt the tensing in his stomach that he remembered from his bouts of self-pleasure, and he pulled Chris off by the hand in his hair. “Not yet,” he gasped, screwing his eyes shut to fight off the wave. “Not until you’re inside me.” It was Chris’ turn to swear, soft and full of feeling, and Mat kissed him, scrambling up the bed and drawing Chris with him by the mouth.

“I have no idea what to do now,” he admitted after several more minutes of Chris’ tongue entwined with his.

“I do,” Chris said with a flash of a smile. “Lie back.”

Chris’ fingers in him were strange, to say the least, but not strictly unpleasurable. Matters got better once Chris twisted them and brushed against something that made Mat shout and ball his hands into fists. Chris bit into his thigh and kept working him until Mat felt positively gaping open, all his nerves singing. “Are you ready, do you think?” Chris asked, four fingers deep.

“I think so,” Mat said. “You would know better than I.”

“We’ll go slow,” Chris said decisively, pulling his fingers out and reaching for the small jar he’d pulled from his nightstand at the start of the proceedings. “You should be on top, to control the speed.”

Mat shook his head. “No. I want to be under you.” That made Chris blush, surprisingly, and he bent to kiss him.

“Give me your hand?” Mat did, and Chris poured the oil into it, his hand wrapping around Mat’s to direct it to his own cock, which looked painfully hard. Under his instruction, Mat coated him in the oil until he was dripping. “Lie back again, and hold yourself as open as you can manage,” Chris said softly.

The first push was a jolt of something on the edge of pain, and Chris held still once he had breached Mat until it subsided. “You can go again,” Mat breathed after a careful moment, and Chris started to inch inside him, a slow slide that made Mat groan with the oddness of it.

Slowly, slowly Chris eased inside of him until his hips were pressing against Mat’s. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he gasped, his voice ragged with what Mat hoped was pleasure.

Mat wrapped his arms around Chris’ shoulders and tucked his ankles behind his thighs for safekeeping. “Ready for what?”

“For me to move.”

He considered this for a moment. “Try it and let me see how it feels.”

Chris angled his hips slightly and drew back about an inch. “More,” Mat said, and Chris pulled back until Mat could feel just the tip of him still inside. At Mat’s direction, Chris filled him again in one stroke, his cock rubbing against that  _ spot _ inside that made Mat’s arms and legs tingle. “Go,” Mat whispered, and Chris went, thrusting in and out in an increasing rhythm that quickly grew from  _ strange but not bad _ to  _ really quite good. _

Mat heard himself crying out on each stroke and vaguely wondered, with what part of his mind was still active, how long he had been doing that. Chris was panting in his ear, head tucked against Mat’s, and Mat bit into his shoulder, moaning at the taste of him. His fingers clutched at Chris’ back as they moved together, and Chris pulled up enough to kiss him, both of them panting raggedly into each other’s mouths.

When it had begun to seem as though their lovemaking had lasted and would last forever, that Mat had never known anything but the glorious agony of Chris filling him to the brim over and over again, Chris shifted to free an arm and wrapped his hand around Mat’s cock, which he had all but forgotten about.

“Come for me, Mat,” he said, voice shaking with exertion, and with a few quick strokes Mat shattered, exploding into a thousand pieces that slowly reconstructed themselves into a living, breathing human. Chris gave a handful more thrusts into him and then came to a halt, warmth pooling where he was locked inside Mat.

Mat dozed as Chris pulled himself free and set about washing them. He allowed himself to be moved where Chris gently directed him, with pauses for Chris to drop kisses on various parts of his body, but otherwise remained a limp sack of drowsy joy. Chris tossed the washcloth back into the basin on his dresser and crawled into bed beside him, pulling the blankets up over them both.

Mat summoned enough energy to roll into his arms, nestling his head onto Chris’ shoulder and sighing. “Damn the banns,” he mumbled sleepily. “Get us a license in the morning, will you? I want to be married as soon as possible.”

He felt Chris’ laugh more than he heard it. “Anything you say, my love,” Chris murmured into his hair, and with that reassurance, Mat let himself fall into a deep slumber.

———

Viktor dressed slowly, as if by taking his time and deliberating over each article of clothing, he could make the morning last longer. Next to him, Yuuri appeared to be doing the same, turning each cufflink over in his hand two or three times before slipping it into place. He fumbled with the clasps, and unthinkingly Viktor reached over and knocked his hands away, taking over and locking them closed himself.

In answer, Yuuri took hold of Viktor’s shoulders and straightened him up, then started fussing with his cravat, puffing it up and patting the edges into place. His brow furrowed as he worked, and Viktor couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing a kiss into the wrinkles.

Yuuri sighed, his forehead tipping down to rest on Viktor’s shoulder. “I don’t want to leave,” he admitted into the fabric of Viktor’s jacket. “I want to stay here forever, with you, in this haven.”

“I know,” Viktor said heavily. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri, holding him securely to his chest. “But we can’t.”

“Why can’t we?” Yuuri asked, clinging to Viktor in turn. “I’m rich, and you’re richer; surely we can buy this place and live in it.”

Viktor laughed sadly into Yuuri’s hair. “People would talk, darling.”

“Damn them all.”

“Indeed.”

They held each other for as long as they could, but eventually a man came for Yuuri’s bags and they had to separate. Yuuri’s cheeks were wet, and Viktor had a brimming in his own eyes he had to turn and wipe away. The man with the bags departed, and Yuuri sighed. “Minami will be waiting for me,” he murmured.

“We should leave separately,” Viktor said, his throat dry as sandpaper. “In case anyone is watching.”

Viktor saw Yuuri’s heart break in his eyes, but he nodded bravely and picked up his jacket. Viktor helped him into it, and Yuuri kissed him one final time, making Viktor’s tears threaten again, and then he stepped away and put his hand on the doorknob.

“Wait,” Viktor cried, the word ripped out of him. “Wait.” Yuuri halted and turned back to him. Viktor ran to him and dropped to his knees, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and pressing it to his face. “Yuuri, wait.”

“Don’t drag this out, Viktor,” Yuuri begged, and Viktor shook his head.

“Yuuri,” he said, standing with Yuuri’s hand still held against his cheek. “Let’s be each other’s exceptions.”

“What?” Yuuri blinked at him, his mouth opening in surprise.

“You won’t marry again,” Viktor said, “and I won’t marry for love. Those are both good, solid rules, with excellent justifications behind them. But let’s break them, just this once.”

Yuuri gasped, eyes dancing over Viktor’s face as if he didn’t know where to look. “Viktor, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, marry me, Yuuri, and make me the happiest man alive.”

Yuuri seemed to stop breathing for a moment. “Oh, do you mean it?” he whispered, eyes wide.

“I mean it,” Viktor confirmed, stepping even closer to him. “I love you, and you love me, and we can’t be without each other, and we can’t have an affair. So let’s get married and put an end to it all.”

Yuuri pulled him down by the hand on his face and Viktor fell into his mouth, their tears mingling on their cheeks as they clung to each other. “Yes,” Yuuri gasped, breaking away just long enough to breathe the word and then diving back in. “Yes, yes,  _ yes, _ Viktor, yes I’ll marry you.” Viktor picked him up and spun him around and Yuuri cried out with laughter, tears still spilling from his eyes.

Viktor set him down and said, “You go on ahead with Minami. I’ll find somewhere to get a license. Will we have to wait for your family?”

“They can be here in a day,” Yuuri said breathlessly. “I’ll send Minami straightaway to fetch them; they’ll understand if I write them a letter.”

“Then hurry.” Viktor kissed him again and opened the door, sweeping Yuuri through it. “Hurry, my love. I’ll come to you once I have the license.”

“I love you,” Yuuri said, clasping his hands.

“I love you too. Now  _ go!” _

Yuuri laughed and raced off down the stairs. Viktor found his boots and followed him, in pursuit of Makkachin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left to go!!!!! And a ridiculously sappy author's note, brace yourselves. See you Monday!


	12. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding day.

Chris paced around the small room, one thumb pressed to his lip in impatience. Josef had left five minutes ago, promising to bring Mat swiftly. The room where Mat was dressing with his groomsmen was just down the hall; what could be taking so long?

With a sigh, Chris dropped into a chair, his skin prickling with impatience. For all they had been engaged for two days, he and Mat had barely had a moment alone together since waking in each other’s arms, and he was finding the lack intolerable. He drummed his fingers on his thigh and tried to quiet his mind.

Finally, the door cracked open. “You’ve been giving me advice for two days, Josef,” he heard Mat say. “Haven’t you run out?” And then Mat had caught sight of him and fallen silent, and Josef gave him a gentle push over the threshold and shut the door behind him.

Mat moved forward briskly and Chris rose from his chair to meet him, pulling him into his arms with a relieved gasp as Mat’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Is it unbelievable if I tell you I’ve missed you?” he murmured, turning his face into the fall of Mat’s hair and breathing deep.

“Not unbelievable at all,” Mat said, clinging to Chris tightly. “I’ve missed you too.”

Once he felt able, Chris pulled back enough to catch Mat’s mouth in a deep kiss. The irritation leached from under his skin as Mat’s lips parted gratefully against his own.

“I realized something,” Mat murmured once the kiss ended.

“What have you realized?” Chris murmured back, enraptured by the simple sound of his voice.

“I’ve never said it. I said I’d marry you without saying it.”

“Never said what?”

Mat released Chris’ waist to reach up and cup his face, eyes pinning him in place. “That I love you.” Chris had to shut his eyes against a sudden burning, and Mat laughed and pressed their foreheads together. “To think that I should bring you to tears by telling you I love you,” he wondered. “My boyhood self would never have believed it.”

“I never thought to hear you say it,” Chris admitted. “I thought I had forfeited your love for my mistake.”

“Even after I accepted your proposal? Even after I demanded you make love to me?” Mat asked teasingly.

Eyes still shut, Chris shook his head. “It seemed too much to hope for. I was lucky to have your hand, even without your heart.”

“Oh, Chris,” Mat said, sounding sad. He kissed Chris, soft and tender, and pulled him into another embrace. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I’ll say it as often as you like.”

Chris laughed wetly. “Prepare never to say anything else, then.”

“I love you,” Mat whispered, one hand cupping the back of Chris’ head. “I love you, I love you,  _ I love you.” _

Chris’ heart was pounding wildly, the tears flowing freely from his eyes as he pressed his face into Mat’s neck. “I love you, Mathieu.”

They held each other until a soft knock came at the door, at which sound they parted, smiling helplessly at each other as Chris pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “Go finish dressing,” he said, drawing Mat in for another kiss. “I’ll see you at the church soon enough.”

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Mat said. He kissed Chris again and took his leave with a final press of his hand.

Josef came back once he had safely delivered Mat to his groomsmen again, and he laughed to see the state Chris was in. “Wash your face, lad,” he said, clapping Chris on the shoulder. “You can’t get married with tear tracks on your cheeks.”

“He’s too good for me,” Chris said honestly, “and I haven’t any water. Everyone will understand.”

“I’ll find you some water,” Josef promised, “if you promise never to degrade yourself again. You’re worthy of each other, lad. You always have been, even when you made mistakes. I’m just glad both of you saw it within my lifetime.”

“Don’t talk like an old man,” Chris said with a frown. “You’re in the peak of health and you always will be. You’ll outlive us both.”

Josef hugged him. “And don’t you forget it.” He pulled back and clapped Chris on the shoulder again. “I’ll get you that water. You get a hold of yourself.” Chris nodded, and Josef smiled and left. Chris set to straightening out his clothing where Mat’s hands had rumpled it, unable to stop smiling to himself.

———

“Do you know,” Yuuri murmured, leaning his head against Viktor’s, their hands entangled, “I think that I have nothing to worry about?”

Viktor looked at him, his expression fond, and twisted to press a kiss into his hair. “I would say you are right. The hard part is over, my love.”

“Marrying you was not  _ hard,” _ Yuuri scoffed. He lifted their joined hands and inspected the way the light gleamed off their matching rings. “It was the easiest thing I have ever done. But that did not mean there was nothing to  _ worry _ about.”

“Oh?” Viktor lifted an eyebrow, clearly humoring him. “What was there to worry about in marrying me?”

“Plenty,” Yuuri said. “That you would change your mind, primarily, or that I would wake and it had all been a dream, from my sending you that note to our wedding day. Or that you would not like my family,” he went on, rubbing his thumb over Viktor’s ring. “Even for me, there was no need to worry that they would not adore  _ you.” _

“I love your family.”

“You do. And you did not change your mind, and it was not all a dream. And at the moment, I cannot think of anything else I could possibly worry about.”

“I am glad to hear it. You should not worry at all, not for a single moment for the rest of your life.”

Yuuri shook his head. “If only it were that easy. You have married a worrier, Viktor, and shall have to resign yourself to it.”

He truly wasn’t concerned, but it was still reassuring when Viktor pulled their hands to his mouth and kissed Yuuri’s fingers where they lay entwined with his own. “That will not be difficult,” he murmured, “for it means I have married  _ you.” _

“That was the right answer,” Yuuri told him, earning him a dazzling smile.

Across the waiting room from them, Chris and Mat were wrapped up in their own dialogue, and it made Yuuri’s heart warm to see it. Once the  _ ton _ had quite resigned themselves to the Devilish Duke and the Angel both settling down at the same time, and so quickly, the fact that it was a double wedding barely raised any eyebrows. What  _ had _ surprised people was when Yuuri and Mat had embraced as old friends at the altar before moving to stand next to their respective fiancés. It had started the proceedings off on the right foot, Yuuri rather thought. It would have been no good if the event hadn’t had  _ some _ ability to startle people.

The door to their waiting room opened and Phichit entered. “They’re ready for you,” he said, his face written over with excitement. “Lords Giacometti and Bieri first, then the Dukes.”

They lined up, Chris and Mat first and then Viktor and Yuuri behind. Yuuri heard the announcer’s booming voice introduce the new Earls of Bern, and watched as the pair exited the room and disappeared down the long staircase that waited outside.

Phichit touched his shoulder as he and Viktor took their places, and Yuuri spared a moment to flash him a wide grin. Phichit had been a rock for him during the whirlwind planning, not doubting for a moment Yuuri’s report that he was marrying, yes, in two days, yes, to the infamous Viktor Nikiforov. He had taken it all in stride and managed the lion’s share of the logistics, proving himself once again the best friend a man like Yuuri could ask for.

“Ready?” Viktor murmured to him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri, the Dukes of Petersburg,” the announcer called, and with a sickening swoop in his stomach, Yuuri stepped forward with Viktor to make their way to and then down the steps.

Thank God for his parents, who had placed themselves firmly at the base of the stairs, so their faces were the first ones he saw, Mari hovering behind them. All three were beaming at him and Viktor, and he made himself look at them and only them, so he would not be dazzled by the massive crowd that had turned out for the most notorious wedding reception in society history. His mother pressed his hand as they reached the bottom, and he shot her a grateful glance before Viktor swept him away to the dance floor, where Mat and Chris were already waiting.

It had been many, many years since Yuuri had danced. His late husband hadn’t been one for dancing once their courtship had completed, and he had not had the stomach for it as a widower. It was an entirely different flavor of anticipation flooding his veins at the prospect. He had been quite good at it; he could only hope his skill had remained without the practice.

Viktor settled into place opposite him, their eyes meeting, and Yuuri knew in his bones that this would be a good dance, as would all the ones that would surely follow. Viktor would not let him down.

His husband dropped him a wink, then lifted his head and signalled to the band. With a swelling crescendo from the strings, the dance began, and Yuuri stepped forward to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys. Here we are.
> 
> I don't know what to say about the support this fic has gotten. It's absolutely blown me away. Thank you guys so, so much for following along with my story, and I hope you've liked it as much as I've enjoyed writing and posting it.
> 
> Because I was asked - if you want to do pretty much anything in response, fanart, podfic, playlists, whatever, you have my permission! Just link me here or on Twitter or Tumblr so I can scream and promote it.
> 
> You may have noticed that this is now a series. I have a fic planned that's an AU of the original premise, so go ahead and subscribe to the series to be updated when that starts posting! I have a big longfic to write first, but I'm excited about it.
> 
> That's all, I think. Again, thank you guys. I've had so much fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http:twitter.com/thewalrus_said)!


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